At Odds
by Tempestt
Summary: This is the sequel to Against All Odds. The lovers are reunited, but what could possibly put them At Odds with each other?
1. Ding Dong, the Wicked Dick is Dead

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. I'm just using it as a medium for my perverted fantasies.

At Odds

A/N The prequel to this story can be read at my website which is listed on my bio.

Chapter One

Ding Dong the Wicked Dick is Dead

The evil tyrant Frieza was dead. The news spread across the universe like a brushfire, jumping from world to world to galaxy to galaxy. Entire civilizations raised their arms to the heavens, waving like fields of wheat as they howled praises to the gods for freeing them from a miserable life of enslavement. People danced in the streets, their jubilation echoing through space, striking fear into the hearts of the remaining emissaries of Frieza.

Planet wide galas ensued, eventually overflowing to nearby space stations and starbases. Warriors forced to serve Frieza, threw down their weapons, shredding their armor from their bodies. They rushed home to their last remaining loved ones, indulging in the taste of sweet liberty that had so long been denied to them.

Sons returned victorious to the waiting arms of their mothers, daughters whose tenderness was ripped away bowed their heads in shame in front of their fathers. The memories of their life before the warlord were dim and shadowy while the nightmares of their time serving the whims of a madman were fresh and bloody. They tilled the soil of their lands beside their brothers and tended the family businesses with their sisters, but forever the blood lust throbbed beneath their skin. Home no longer held the allure it once did and their joy was tainted by the knowledge that they would never be able to wash off the thick coating of blood on their hands.

Happiness rippled out through the universe and victory songs were sung in every corner, from dingy asteroid way stations to shinning palace halls. The sick laughter of elation drove people to the heights of ecstasy. It whipped them into a frenzy of retribution as they drank deeply from the pool of freedom.

Citizens breached the walls of government buildings on their home planets, hunting down the false rulers that Frieza had appointed to watch over his subjects. Entire families were slaughtered without remorse, their pleading falling on deaf ears. Their only crime was that of forced obedience to their master, doing his will onto others. Long forgotten kings and exiled princes returned home, claiming their thrones still awash with the blood of their predecessors. Many who took reins of power had no idea what it meant to rule, but they knew what it meant to yearn. They proclaimed far and wide their heritage, citing their patrimony like it was solemn prayer.

Neighboring planets that had lived in peace under Frieza's control began to feud as they did before the coming of the warlord's law. Ancient wounds reopened and the rancid puss of resentment began to flow freely without the cauterizing heat of tyranny. Entire worlds burned as wars raged throughout the universe and hate ran rampant, unchecked by a steady hand of leadership. Chaos stampeded through space like a frightened animal as entire galaxies broke away from the federation, rebelling against the leash that they had previously strained under. The economies crashed without planetary trade and soon the innocent people began to cower in fear once again, but not from the oppression of a distant lord, but from the cruelty of their own brainless leaders.

The sons and daughters felt their skins itch as their blood boiedl with madness. Little girls stood over the dead bodies of the fathers who tried to force them back into the role of domestication, ignoring their warrior's training and scarred souls. Sweet boys stared at their broken mothers, relieving every moment of horror they had wrought while serving their twisted master. The last of the soldiers broke away from their battalions, raiding helpless worlds that no longer had the protection of the mandatory military. Lawless pirates roamed the byways of space, hunting the remaining merchant vessels and scavenging off the rotting carcass of the fallen empire. Survivor rabble, those who had lived through the purgings banded together and invaded the invaders, conquering their own worlds, trying to win back their blood-drenched lands.

In a distant part of space, beyond the borders of the known universe a black heart began to pulse. Evil writhed, twisting and turning in on itself, slithering like a nest of snakes. Its cold eyes turned towards the crumbling empire, watching as innocent blood spilled through the streets and the sovereignty burned to ash. It listened with cold detachment to the screams that found their way to its sensitive ears, fury and expectation budding in its chest.

As the realm collapsed the current monarch was engaged in a battle that he could not possibly win. Dread unfurled in the pit of his belly as he was goaded onto a path that led to certain defeat.

"Please Vegeta." Bulma wheedled. She was kneeling between his legs, her hands clasped in front of her naked chest that glistened with droplets of moisture.

"No." He growled. He was leaning against the rim of the bathtub, damning himself for ever mentioning to the wench that he had obtained the legendary. He had been relaxing, nearly drifting off to sleep as Bulma lay on his chest, contentedly soaping her long legs. He had been running the events of the last few weeks through his head, when he latched onto the proudest moment in his life. His transformation.

"Pretty please!" With every word her body bounced, causing her luscious breasts partially obscured from his view to jiggle and water to swirl against the tub walls.

"I said no, woman." As soon as he had muttered the words about his change she had whirled around in the tub, slopping water over the edge while her eyes glowed with pleasure. The bright white of her smile had nearly blinded him and he was taken aback by her sheer joy at his words. He tried to form his features into a scowl, but he couldn't stop himself from eyeing the bounce of her breasts.

Bulma caught Vegeta's distraction and she instantly dropped her hands a little, allowing her full 'attributes' to rest on her forearms. Her eyes became half-lidded and her tone lowered into a husky pitch.

"You know you want to." She whispered to him. Vegeta had been staring at her now fully revealed breasts, but at her entreaty his eyes shot up to meet hers. His pulse raceed when he saw the promise reflected in their depths. He sighed deeply, levering himself out of the tub, hiding a smile when she began to clap her hands wildly.

He stepped into the center of the large marbled bath that was steamy with a combination of hot water and even hotter bodies. He turned to face her, watching as she scooted up to the rim of the tub, looking up at him with eager expectation. Her blue eyes were wide with childish delight and he felt his heart constrict when he looked down at her. He fisted his hands at his sides, reaching down inside of him, calling on the sleeping dragon to awaken.

The beast roused its weary head, its teal eyes latching onto the glowing face of its mate. Slowly, with great care it rose to the surface, pouring light into every pore, infusing cells with energy, casting black hair into gold.

Bulma gasped at the sight. He was beautiful. It was although someone had dipped him in molten fire, coating him in precious metal and polishing him to a blinding shine. She ached with the need to touch him, to run her fingers over the smooth bulge of his muscles and the indentations of flesh. She rose from the bath, water cascading off her flushed body as she stared enchanted at the man in front of her.

In her daze she misjudged the height of the rim and caught her foot on the edge. With a tiny shriek she fell forward, her eyes clenching shut as her hands flew out in front of her to brace herself for the painful fall, but she never made contact. Instead, in a ripple of muscle and sinew, Vegeta darted out, catching her to his chest before she could come to harm.

She opened her eyes to meet his teal gaze, her breath coming in heavy pants. They stared at each other for endless minutes, before a wicked smirk overtook his features.

"Stupid woman."

She smiled back up at him, raising her lips to his when they descended for a bone melting kiss. Their tongues twined together in a slow sensual dance of longing. His aura snapped and hissed, causing the small hairs on her body to stand on end. Her skin tingled with each shock, sending fits of pleasure through her causing her to moan.

Her age old call of need vibrated through Vegeta and he thickened with the desire to fill her. He lifted her up against his solid chest and his heart began to pound when her long legs wrapped around him in a silent demand. In three steps he had her pressed up against the cool marble wall that sweated with the steam of their prolonged bath. Bulma arched against the veined stone, pressing her shoulders flat while grinding her damp center against his thrusting erection.

He trailed away from her swollen mouth, stopping to lap at the pool of water trapped in the hollow of her throat. Her head fell back against the wall as she greedily gulped for air, her lungs suddenly becoming sluggish, finally forgetting to work completely when his hot lips skimmed over her pulse. He paused to lick the mark on her throat that proclaimed that she belonged to him, aching to dominate her in a more complete fashion.

"My lord." Zarbon's cool tones invaded the room through the intercom.

Vegeta's head darted up, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he glared at the small box.

"That's it. I am going to kill him." He growled with deadly promise.

Bulma merely giggled, rubbing her breasts against Vegeta's naked chest. "Oh don't be such a grumpy butt." His deadly gaze latched onto her, but she remained unaffected. He snorted at her comment, setting her down on her feet before he stalked over to the intercom, pressing the button forcibly.

"What?" He snarled, uncaring that his annoyance was audible.

Back in the control room, Zarbon rolled his eyes. By the sound of things he really needed to work on his timing. A stunning violet-haired woman walked by at that moment, winking at the handsome man, causing him to grin roguishly. Perhaps a little more practice was in order. He quickly reined in his drifting thoughts and returned his attention to his lord.

"We have arrived, my lord." After months of travel they had finally located the planet that the royal heir had been sent into hiding at.

Vegeta turned around as Zarbon's words caused Bulma to squeal in delight. Finally, she would be able to hold her son in her arms once again. She had dreamed of this moment for weeks, unable to contain her overwhelming excitement. Even though she was reunited with Vegeta she still felt that there was a hole in her heart, something that could only be filled by the safe return of her baby.

Vegeta had repeatedly tried to tell her that Trunks would not be like a human child, especially after being sent off to live by himself as a mere infant. He would be wild, living off the land like an animal. He warned her that she wouldn't be able to coddle him and that more than likely he would have to be tamed before she could go near him. Even as a toddler he would have enough strength to crush his delicate mother without trying.

Bulma refused to listen to Vegeta's lectures. Instead she fantasized about her coming reunion with her child. In her mind's eyes she saw him running into her arms and hugging her as she cried tears of joy. The rational part of her mind understood Vegeta's concerns, but she couldn't imagine her little boy doing anything to hurt her.

She twirled in the center of the room before she darted off to find something to wear. Vegeta heaved a great sigh, his power fading away when he realized that he would not be able to finish what he started. He turned back to the intercom, informing Zarbon that they would be coming up to the bridge shortly. He followed his mate back into the bedroom, a curious sense of foreboding nesting in the pit of his stomach.

They touched down a short distance away from the pod that had transported Trunks. The homing beacon that Bulma had installed in the cock pit signified its location deep in a thick jungle. The world that Bulma had sent their son to was inhabited by primitive tribes and therefore no threat to their abnormally strong son.

A Saiyan has the ability to crawl only a few hours after it is born and is able to walk within a few short days. Their animal instincts made them the perfect warrior race as their cubs could single handedly annihilate a world if it so chose, thus making them nearly unstoppable. The jungle where Trunks had landed would offer him more than enough resources to survive even as an infant and neither Vegeta nor Bulma were worried about their precious offspring.

After waging a fierce war, Vegeta finally ordered Bulma to stay on the ship. His fear for her safety overrode the desire to please his mate and it was all he could do not to unleash his foul temper on her. She spat and hissed, but once he roared his order in front of his men there was no recourse. She dared not disobey him in front of the newly drafted soldiers and risk threatening his authority over them. Besides once given, he would never renege on his demand.

Since renewing their bond, their link had begun to grow again. Not as slowly this time, but they still couldn't share words yet. However, much to Vegeta's dismay, emotions came through loud and clear. Bulma's anger left him little hope that his evening would be pleasant upon his return. He assured himself that her pleasure at seeing their son would dull her rage, but the last look she flashed him held little promise.

Vegeta stalked out of the ship, Zarbon and a contingent of men on his heels. The green man drew even to his lord, politely waiting for permission to speak. Vegeta grit his teeth, still angry over his confrontation with Bulma.

"What?" He snapped while he scanned the area for any threats.

"I have the latest reports my lord." Vegeta had been keeping himself apprised of the events surrounding the collapse of the empire and he was none to pleased about it. Although he knew that retrieving his heir was of great importance he was afraid that if he didn't return to Capital World soon there would be nothing to bequeath to his son. He nodded curtly for Zarbon to continue as they made their way to the pod.

"The citizens of Pathia have rioted bringing the entire planet to a screeching halt in order to deal with the chaos. The Dells seeing their inattention took the opportunity to invade them. They are currently engaged in a destructive war that could leave both worlds decimated."

Vegeta sneered in disgust. He could care less if both races killed themselves but it so happened that the Pathians were a rich mining society. They harvested Incandescent Crystals and while Vegeta was inclined to let them die out and replace them with another race, the Pathians were the only ones who knew how to mine the crystals without destroying them. To further complicate matters, the Dells, the inhabitants of the neighboring world were the only race who knew how to fashion the crystal into beautiful pieces of art. Neither race would divulge their secrets and Vegeta didn't want to lose such a prosperous aspect of the empire's economy.

"What else?" Vegeta sighed. He knew there was more. Zarbon always started out with the minor incidents in order to soften him up for the bigger blow.

"A total of seventy-two planets have revolted from the empire. The Shari and the Reaves are attempting to organizing them into a union. Apparently between the two leaders they may have half a brain." Zarbon sneered snidely and Vegeta lifted a brow in amusement.

"They know that you will be returning to Capital World soon in order to take the throne and they are trying to convince the other worlds to band together against you. They are afraid that you are going to be another tyrant like Frieza." Zarbon stared straight ahead, not daring to look at his new lord.

Vegeta's lip curled in distaste. His first instinct was to visit each and every planet that opposed him and teach them a bloody lesson in the error of their ways. That thought may very well become a reality if he didn't return to the heart of the empire quickly and regain control before it eroded completely.

"They have a very good reason to be afraid of me. I'm the one who beat most of those worlds into submission in the first place." Vegeta's icy tones slid down Zarbon's spine and he had to suppress his violent shiver of fear.

They arrived at the pod without incident and Vegeta's eyes slit as he studied the tracks around the ship. The door was wrenched open, but it had obviously been done from the inside out. Once the pod had landed his son had exited hastily, tearing the hatch from the hinges and tossing it aside. Vegeta smirked at the sight, anticipation at seeing his heir humming insistently inside of him no matter how hard he tried to suppress it.

He could see the small prints of his son leaving the clearing and entering into the lush jungle, but that was not what caused Vegeta to growl. Crisscrossing his son's marks were several other sets of prints. These were not the track of some tribesman, but they bore the stamp of a military boot. They milled about the area before eventually trailing off after his son's tracks. Vegeta scented the air, grimacing at the faint odor of male sweat and worked leather.

Vegeta dropped into a low crouch as he weaveed through the thick trees, tracking the prints as they led him away from the pod. The usually teeming jungle became still as the wildlife retreated from the newest predator in their midst. Vegeta moved quickly and silently, leaving the others behind as he glided over the land like a large sleek cat, hunting for prey. He saw signs all around him of his son's presence, the skeletal remains of some beast and the rotten cores of fruit piled underneath one tree.

As he neared another glade he could taste a slight acidic taint in the wind, a reminder of a ki blast. He burst into the clearing, his eyes narrowing as he observed the disarray of the forest, his agile mind recreating the battle with ease. Several trees were broken in half where bodies had been hurled into them. The ground was torn apart by the stampeding of opponents centered on one target. Char marks scarred the land and Vegeta could see where the underbrush had been burned away.

He circled the area, satisfied that his son had claimed the life of several of his attackers, but no remains had been left behind. Trucks had fought well, but he had eventually been overpowered. Vegeta felt something wrench deep inside of him, but he viciously pushed it aside.

Zarbon entered the clearing, the soldiers trailing closely behind. The green man absorbed the scene before raising his eyes to his enraged lord. Without a word, Zarbon spun away, efficiently issuing orders to the men to scour the area. Zarbon kept his back turned, unable to look at his lord. He had seen the naked truth reflected in Vegeta's cold obsidian eyes.

Trunks was gone.

They searched for hours. Eventually, the sun sunk below the horizon and the world was cast in darkness. Vegeta stood silently on a wide branch of a tree, unmoving as his merciless eyes scanned the jungle, unwilling to accept the inevitable. He could feel the waves of Bulma's anger turn to worry as the evening lengthened and he still did not return to the ship. Dread coiled deep in the pit of his stomach as he replayed the coming scene over and over in his head. How would he tell her? How would he confess that their son had been taken? He sighed deeply before he leapt from the tree, his landing heard only as a whisper of leaves.

She was waiting for him at the edge of the forest, her wide blue eyes clearly visible even in the growing shadows. He stopped a few feet before her, his face cloaked in the night. He couldn't stop the regret that escaped him, floating on their telepathic link to connect with her mind. Her hands fluttered up to her stomach, her claws mindlessly kneading into the soft flesh of her belly.

"Where is my baby, Vegeta?" She whispered to him, a silken demand for honesty. Her small body began to quake as she desperately tried to keep control of her intense emotions. Vegeta could feel her fear, her dread and her agony of loss screaming through her soul. He took a step towards her, intending to gather her close to him and take away the ache in her heart, but she retreated, her eyes becoming larger.

"Where is he?" She demanded in a quivering voice.

"Gone." That single word reached out and slapped her, bruising her deep inside.

"Where?" Her body caved slightly as her shoulders hunched forward. Deeper her nails dug, scoring the smooth flesh of her midriff. Vegeta stepped forward again, but she retreated, from him, from herself.

"I don't know. Someone took him." His voice was raw, but that was the only sign that he felt something. Inside, it was as though a thousand whips were lashing him. He wanted to reach out and hold his mate. He wanted to reach out and beat to death the people responsible for taking his son. He wanted to reach out and wipe it all away.

"Who?" She choked out. Her chest felt like it was being squeezed by a vice grip and she could barely get the breath she needed to live, much less think. She began to waver on her feet as despair crashed down on her. Her baby was gone. Someone had taken him. No, it was impossible. This couldn't be happening. She clenched her eyes shut, shaking her head in denial. In a distance she could hear Vegeta telling her he that he didn't know who had their son, but the roar in her head drowned him out.

She fell to her knees, holding her belly, the last place she had known her son was safe. She felt Vegeta's arms wrap around her shoulders, but soon she was lost to the oblivion of her sorrow.

Vegeta cradled her tightly to his chest, shutting his eyes against the howls that keened from his mate's throat. Her delicate body shuddered so violently that he was afraid she would shake apart in his arms. Her tears flowed down her cheeks in rivers and the pain emanating from her nearly staggered him with its weight.

She cried for hours until her small body could no longer handle the torrential outpouring of emotion and she finally collapsed into an unconscious heap. Vegeta lifted her up into his arms, striding to the ship. Zarbon stepped aside as he watched the implacable man carry his mate into his bedchamber and he felt that shiver of fear run down his spine again.


	2. Jarrell

Disclaimer:  Don't own it, yada yada yada

Chapter Two

Jarrell

The frightened woman raced down the hallway, her breaths coming in hard pants. The screams of harem girls echoed around her and in the distant shadows she could hear the murmur of some poor boy begging for his life.  The air was rancid with the thick smoke of burning flesh and she gagged on the stench.  The clamor of approaching men from around the corner brought her to a skidding stop.  Frantically, her eyes darted about, desperately seeking a hiding place.  She lunged into a darkened doorway, hugging the wall in an effort to become invisible.  She held her breath, nearly choking with the effort as her lungs strained for the oxygen it needed to feed her pounding heart.

Two men passed by her, joking jovially as they dragged an unconscious woman between them.  Their hands were stained by the blood of the palace servants and they howled with laughter at the easy prey they had found.  They disappeared around the next corner, but the woman stayed hidden, suddenly afraid to be out in the open.  Bravely, the woman shoved away her instincts that demanded she run for her life to the gates and instead she directed her unsteady legs to push further into the heart of the palace.

She stepped cautiously out into the light, looking for any threats before breaking into a run.  She slid around the corner only to collide into an unyielding wall of male flesh.  Violet eyes darted up to meet fathomless obsidian.  The woman collapsed in fear in front of the tall man, her hand clutching her throat as she looked into the face of her executioner.  Her mind screamed at her legs to move, but they studiously ignored her pleading and she began to sob brokenly as she edged backwards across the marble floor.

The man's face clouded and his eyes flashed with fury.  His mouth screwed into a hard line as he stepped forward, grasping the woman by the arm and yanking her smoothly to her feet.  She fell against his hard chest and she instinctively raised her hand to rest against his heart to brace herself.  She could feel the heat of his flesh even through the thick breastplate of his armor.  She couldn't stop herself from breathing deeply, inhaling his musky scent.  She shuddered with a mixture of fear and longing, but she refused to meet his implacable gaze.  The man shook her slightly, growling with annoyance.

"Stop acting like I'm going to hurt you woman and look at me."  Raditz demanded as he glared down at his golden lover.

Delia's stunned gaze darted up to his, gulping when she saw the anger brewing there.  She was certain that he was going to kill her, no matter what words he said to her.  She had betrayed his prince, therefore stabbing him in the back.  He hated her and now in this time of chaos, he had come to exact his revenge.  She clenched her eyes closed, not wanting to see the killing blow from the man she loved.  In her mind's eye she could see the sweet smile of her little boy, laughing as she hugged him tightly to her.  Sorrow welled up inside of her as she realized that she wouldn't be able to retrieve her son who was still imprisoned deep inside the palace walls.

Raditz hissed down at Delia, frustration at her behavior cutting him cruelly.  Did she really think he could hurt her?  Even after what she had done, he could never raise a hand to her.  He craved retribution against her, but warring with that yearning was an insatiable need to hold and protect her.  She was his weakness.  The only woman he ever desired.

After they heard of the death of Frieza at Vegeta's hands, Nappa and Raditz had blasted off for Capital World, certain that their prince would return in due time to claim the throne.  They didn't understand their lord's tardiness, but they were sure that he had a good reason.  When they had arrived they found the world ablaze with the fires of revolt.  The streets ran red with blood as the citizens rose up against Frieza's soldiers, desperately trying to tear down every reminder of the tyrant's rule.  They breached the palace walls, attacking warriors and servants alike, having no mercy on the innocent.

When Raditz had seen the smoke rising from the castle turrets he had raced towards the compound, uncaring whether or not Nappa followed.  He knew that Delia was somewhere inside and he had to get to her before something vile befell her.  When she had skidded around the corner it was as though providence had smiled on him, but now she shook in his arms with fear, twisting his already aching heart.  She was afraid that he would murder her indiscriminately for her crimes against him.  The ruthless killer inside of him whispered that was exactly what he should do.  She was nothing more than a traitorous whore that deserved her punishment for betraying him.  He grimaced as he stared down at her.  He knew he could never lay a hand on her, but that didn't stop the anger that beat inside of him.  In the end, all he really wanted was to gather her up and carry her from this place.

"Please don't kill me Raditz."  She gasped breathlessly.  While she sat under his heavy stare she had gathered up the courage to plead for her life.  Not for herself, but for her son.  He still needed her to save him and she couldn't do that if she lay bleeding at her lover's feet.  She dared to open her lavender eyes, looking into his hard obsidian gaze.

He sighed with impatience, barely resisting the urge to shake her again.  "Stupid woman.  I am not going to kill you.  I have come to retrieve you."  He words carried a grating pitch of unvoiced anger and her eyes widened.

"W-what are you going to do with me?"  Her words laced with so much fear, pushed him over the edge.  He was a warrior, not some weak imbecile that could not contain his desire for some small, shaking female.  Honor dictated, that he present her to his prince and allow his lord to decide her fate.  He ruthlessly ignored the small voice that whispered that his loyalty may be called into question in the very near future.

"That is for Lord Vegeta to decide."  He hissed with fury.  He turned on his heel, dragging her alongside of him.  Nappa silently stepped in line beside him as they strode down the hall away from the palace.  Delia was too stunned to argue for the first couple of steps, but soon realization dawned on her.  Raditz was taking her outside of the palace walls and she could not allow that.

She dug her heels into the floor, yanking viciously on her arm, trying to free herself.  She began to hiss and spit with a fury that shocked both men and they rounded on her wide-eyed as she struggled against Raditz's grip.

"What are you doing, woman?  Stop that."  Raditz glared down at her, unbelieving that his sweet Delia would ever show so much fire.  Her burning violet eyes meet his and he was stunned by the amount of venom in their depths.  He was so enthralled with her gaze that he didn't notice when she knotted her free hand into a fist and socked him right in the nose with all her might.

He dropped her arm, more out of shock than pain and she instantly turned on her heel, scurrying down the hall like a frightened rabbit.  Raditz raised his hand to his nose, checking for blood just before his eyes narrowed with fury.  In a flash he was after her, slamming her up against the marble wall with more force than he intended.  Her breath gushed out of her lungs and she slumped to the floor, the golden strands of her hair trailing down the wall behind her.  Raditz groaned inwardly at her crumpled form, instantly feeling remorse for his careless actions.

He reached down with great care, pulling her back up onto her feet.  She blinked rapidly for a few moments before finally seeing him clearly.  As soon as she did, her mouth dropped open and the most earsplitting shriek he had ever heard vibrated from the depths of her throat.  Nappa growled at the sound and Raditz grimaced.  Delia kept screaming with the hopes that someone would come by and engage the warriors in a battle so she could scamper away undetected.

"What the fuck has gotten into you, woman?"  Raditz brows met in the center as he watched the woman who had clearly lost her mind.  She didn't respond and only kept screaming.  Raditz yanked her behind him again as he continued down the hall, ignoring her cries.

The closer they got to the exit the more irrational Delia became.  She kicked, scratched and bit, desperately trying to free herself from Raditz's iron grip.  Tears streamed down her face as her voice became raw from her screams.

"Jarrell, Jarrell."  She whimpered continuously, feeding Raditz's building fury.  Her repeated cries for another man gorged him deeper than any battle wound he had ever received.  He had not considered that she would have taken another lover after leaving Primus and he grimaced at how much of a fool he had been.  He had held himself apart from any other woman, not even feeling lust for the many other females he had come in contact with. 

Her broken shouts eventually had the desired result and a contingent of rebel palace guards appeared from around the corner.  One glance at the beautiful golden woman convinced the four men that they had more than enough strength to overpower the two warriors.  With a snarl of disgust Raditz pushed Delia away from him, momentarily tempted to leave her to her fate, while knowing in his heart he couldn't see her harmed.

Delia inched away from the two men as they faced off with the soldiers.  She felt a flicker of indecision when she noticed that Raditz and Nappa were outnumbered two to one and she regretted that this had come to pass.  She steeled her will as she backed slowly down the hall.  She could not be concerned with her lover's fate.  He was a grown man that could care for himself.  Her Jarrell needed her.

Raditz watched as Delia disappeared down the hall, his gut clenching with fear.  His distraction allowed his opponent to strike him squarely across the face.  As he hit the far wall with a crack all he could think about was that Delia wasn't safe roaming the halls by herself.

Delia crept deeper into the palace, staying immersed in the shadows and avoiding all contract, even with the servants that she knew.   Soon she entered into a part of the complex she was unfamiliar with as she was never allowed to venture this far.  Many times she had heard Frieza refer to the prison that he kept her precious Jarrell.  The nursery he had called it.  A place deep within the palace where he kept all the children he kidnapped over the years to maintain obedience from his more rambunctious subjects.

She passed through a narrow archway that led into an open courtyard and across the way was another door that she was certain led to her goal.  She darted forward only to be brought up short by muscular arms wrapping around her waist. 

"No!"  She shouted as she kicked viciously at her captor.

The strong arms hauled her back through the archway and she latched her hands around the edge, desperately struggling to free herself.  She tightened her grip as the man yanked on her relentlessly, but she refused to give.

"Damn it woman."  Raditz growled in frustration as he tried to peel her hands off the door jam.

At the sound of his husky voice, Delia felt a shiver of relief course through her.  At least it was Raditz and not some other man intent on raping her.  She was so close to being reunited with her son, she couldn't give up now.  She released her grip on the door suddenly, causing them both to stumble back a few steps.  She whirled in Raditz arms, dropping to her knees as all that was left of her ragged pride abandoned her.  Her hands twisted into his uniform at his waist as she pleaded up at him, tears streaming down her face.

"Please Raditz, please let me get Jarrell."  Raditz heart stopped as he looked down at her broken countenance.  He almost didn't hear her utter the other man's name he was so stunned at her outburst.  She looked so delicate, kneeling before him, begging for the life of another man.

"Get off your knees, you bitch.  I am not going to waste my time saving your pathetic lover."  Raditz growled while gripping her under the elbows to lever her off the ground.  She stared up at him wide eyed, taking a moment to process the new information.  As he finished bringing her to her feet she launched herself at him, wrapping her slender golden arms around his neck and delving her fingers into his thick hair.  She turned her lips so she could whisper into his ear.

"Not my lover, my son."  Her words were soft and pleading.  Raditz was her only hope to retrieve her child.  If he refused then all was lost.  She would not be able to escape his grasp again.

Raditz was brought up short as her whispered words flowed over his sensitive ear and he shuddered with longing.  His arms instinctively wrapped around her waist bringing her nearer to him.  She felt so right in his arms and he couldn't stop his head from dipping down so he could scent her white, gold hair.  _Her son._  He remembered the message that Bulma had sent him.  Her explanation for Delia's faithlessness burned him.  She had played him, betrayed him, all for a child that she had never even trusted him enough to tell him about.

"Please help me to save my baby, Raditz."  Her arms tightened around his neck and her fingers twined even deeper into his hair, holding him to her.  He could feel the wetness of her cheek as she laid it against his.  Her whole body vibrated with grief and he knew that he would do anything to take that pain away.

"Well, quit blubbering woman and lead the way."  His voice was husky with emotion, belying his gruff statement.  She pulled back, her violet eyes searching his, seeking the honesty behind his words.  A genuine smile curved on her pink lips and she reached for his hand, pulling him through the archway with her.  Behind them, Nappa merely rolled his eyes, convinced that all the males around him had finally gone insane.

They walked into a walled courtyard, bordered by small buildings.  Raditz took the lead, following the sound of soft whimpers that he could hear in the distance.  They entered a large room, stunned by the sight that greeted them.  Near the far wall at least two dozen children of all ages were huddled together, their wide eyes shimmering with fear.  In front of them stood a rawboned woman wielding a table leg that she had broken off for a weapon. 

"Get back!"  She yelled, her dark eyes promising murder if they stepped any closer.  "You filthy miscreants can't have my babies."  She edged forward waving her homemade mace with the intention of bludgeoning them to death if that was what it took to protect the children under her care.  Raditz looked at the woman blankly while Nappa raised an eyebrow.  Delia ignored the woman, her large expressive eyes scanning the room until they latched onto a familiar sight.

"Jarrell."  The world around her wavered as she stared at the beloved face that had so long been denied to her.

"Mama."  The small boy broke away from his friends, instantly recognizing the angel he had been dreaming of every night.

Delia dropped to her knees, opening her arms wide as her boy rushed into her arms, tears running down both their faces.  Amidst the murmurings of 'mama' and 'my sweet boy' sobbing could be heard as the remaining children called for their own lost parents.  The nursemaid lowered her weapon when she realized that the intruders would be no harm to her little ones and she rushed over to comfort them.

Nappa and Raditz became very uncomfortable with all the wailing that was echoing around them.  Usually when they heard this sound it was right before they obliterated the offenders.  They shifted their weight uneasily and finally Raditz reached down to pull Delia to her feet.  She held the boy in her arms and Raditz was struck by how similar he appeared to his mother.  He had golden skin, blue-violet eyes and a shock of bright gold hair that fell over his face.  Raditz felt his cold heart thaw a tiny bit as he looked into the child's eyes that reflected so much pain for one so young.  He pulled his dark gaze away from the boy's, looking at Delia.

"It's time to go."  Raditz could hear the approaching marauders and he was pressed with urgency to take his family to safety.  He blinked at the wayward thought that had crept into his unguarded mind.  He pulled at Delia's arm, attempting to lead her from the room, but she did not budge.  He turned back to her, the question for her delay etched on his face.  What more could she possibly want?  They had the boy, it was time to leave.

"We can't leave them Raditz."  Nappa snorted and Raditz barely suppressed the urge to growl.

"Woman."  He began but Delia quickly cut him off.  "They are children of important leaders throughout the universe.  It would be wise to save them.  They could become very important to Vegeta in the future."  She spewed at him, her eyes glittering with motherly concern. 

Raditz's eyes skimmed over the children, taking in their quiet snuffles and the nurse's intense stare.  He sighed deeply and Nappa sensing his capitulation groaned and rubbed his bald head with frustration.  How would they ever herd all these children out of here?


	3. Conflict of Interest

Disclaimer:  I don't own DBZ and I am extremely disappointed about it.

Chapter Three

Conflict of Interest

Bulma rubbed her hand across her sleep encrusted eyes.  She blinked slowly, trying to clear her blurry vision and make out the dimly lit room.  After a few minutes she realized that she was alone in the bed she had shared with Vegeta for the last few months while they journeyed to retrieve their son.

_Trunks_

The heavy ache in her heart resurfaced and the silent tears began to flow down her face once again.  Her baby was gone.  Missing.  Someone had snatched him away in the dead of night like a ruthless viper that slithered into the cradle.  Who could be so cruel?  How could this be happening?  After so much pain and suffering all she wanted was to live as a family, to have a moment of happiness.  Absently she brushed her fingertips across the mark on her chest.  Was happiness too much to ask?

She dragged her naked body from the silken draped bed, ignoring the scream of her sore muscles.  She hobbled into the adjacent bath, bracing her hands on the counter as she grimly stared into the mirror.

She looked terrible.  Her eyes were red rimmed and her dull, lifeless hair straggled down to brush against her unnaturally pale cheeks.  Her skin was so white it was almost translucent, like the finest alabaster china.  Her normally sparkling blue eyes were dark with shadows and her lips were cracked and swollen where she had bitten them raw.  She turned on the tap and leaned down until her hair hung into the basin.  She cupped her hands, pooling water in her palms so she could immerse her face in the cool wetness.  She held her breath, until the water leaked out between her fingers, washing away her tears.

_Why does life have to be so hard?_

She pushed her head completely under the running water, allowing it to soak her hair, attempting to revitalize herself.  She drew back, flipping the drenched strands onto her bare shoulders, shuddering as the icy rivers rolled down her naked back.  She stared hard at her image, her shadowed eyes going from empty bleakness to burning damnation.

_Why did life have to be so unfair?_

Every thing she had to endure, her entire pained existence clamored in a crescendo inside her pounding skull.  Her world was purged, her family slaughtered and her race destroyed.  She had been a slave to the sadistic monster who pillaged it all, including her body, for most of her life.  Finally, in her headlong quest for freedom she had been murdered by the hand of her mate all in the name of love.  Love of Vegeta and love of Trunks. 

She reached into a nearby drawer pulling out a shaving razor, a hard line of hate forming on her usually soft lips.  She brought the blade close to her face, watching the gleam of light on the thin edge.

To protect the child of her womb she was willing to do anything.  She would beg, steal, lie, and kill.  She would wallow in regret for the rest of her miserable life, all for him.  Her baby boy.  He was everything that she never had a chance to be.  Innocent. 

With merciless intent she held the razor close to her heart, watching her reflection in the mirror.

_Why did life have to be filled with so much pain?_

The sharp edge cut deeply into her delicate skin and she watched with fascination as her crimson blood welled up, streaming down between her breasts and into her thatch of feminine fur.  She bit her lip as the pain radiated through her, reminding her of her sorrowful existence.

A thin slice of her mutilated flesh fluttered into the sink, staining the basin scarlet.  Her blade quickly followed, the clatter of metal against porcelain echoing in the marbled bath.

_Why do I live?_

The door to the bathroom burst open, slamming against the wall violently, but the woman remained still.  Vegeta stood in the doorway his dark eyes scraping over his naked mate.  He could see rivulets of blood pouring from her chest contrasting sharply with her pale skin as she stared at her image in the mirror.  He strode over to her, grasping her arms and turning her to face him.  He was stunned by her gray pallor and emotionless eyes.  He shook her slightly, finally gaining her attention.

"What the fuck are you doing, woman?"  He yelled into her unflinching face.

"Cutting away a promise I made."  Her words echoed eerily and Vegeta felt something vile crawl down his spine.  He glanced down at her chest and he noticed with a vague sense of horror that she had cut away the mark that graced her chest.  The rune that had appeared after her death.

"Have you gone mad?"  He glared at her, unable to decipher the montage of emotions that galloped through her head.  She blinked up at him as though seeing him for the first time.  She frowned subtly before shaking him off and moving over to the cabinet to retrieve some bandages and salve.

"Of course not.  Don't be ridicules, Vegeta."  Her haughty tones grated his nerves, but it reassured him.  This was the woman that he knew.

"How long have I been sleeping?"  She busied herself cleaning her wound and dressing it, while Vegeta stepped back, resting his hip on the counter.  He crossed his arms over his chest, his narrowed gaze watching his mate closely.  He had known the moment she had awakened and he had slowly made his way to their rooms, his steps gaining weight with every stride he took.  Her helplessness and despair had filtered through their connection, infecting him with their gloom.  Her pain burned him and he had rushed to her aid, fearing that one of the more untrustworthy men had attacked her.  What disturbed him the most was the feeling of detachment that assailed him while she cut herself, almost as if she wasn't really there.

He didn't like her irrational behavior, but he supposed that it was normal under the circumstances.  He shifted restlessly, uncertainty swamping him.  He didn't know what to do.  These sort of emotional outbursts were beyond him.  He decided to let the incident slide, but he would be sure to keep a closer eye on her and he would remove all sharp objects from her grasp.

"Three days," was his gruff reply.  After she had collapsed on the planet's surface he had taken her back to their rooms and laid her in the bed.  She had slept fitfully and he dared not wake her.  She grimaced at his words as she rinsed the blood out of the sink.

"Where are we now?"  She moved into the bedroom, standing before the closet.  They had stopped at a starbase some weeks back and she had been able to buy some clothing that were better suited to her.

"We are on our way back to Capital World."  Vegeta crossed the room to the table that was endowed with bowls of ripe fruit.  He picked a juicy tidbit up and bit deeply into it, but at his mate's enraged shriek he nearly choked on his food.

"WHAT!?  Why aren't we going after those monsters who stole our baby, Vegeta!  We have to save him."  She rounded on him, dropping her clothing and fisting her hands on her hips.  He coughed up his food, glaring murderously at his woman.

"And where would you have us go woman?  We have no idea who has him or where they have taken him."  He growled at her.  The anger he felt at someone daring to steal his flesh and blood away was equal to her venom, but he had other responsibilities that needed tending too.  Since she had been asleep, fifty more planets had broken away from the empire and the Shari and Reaves had successfully forged an alliance.  The universe was turning its vicious jaws towards its new lord and master and if he didn't move quickly he would be swallowed whole.  He had to get back to Capital World.  He had no choice in the matter.

"There has to be some clue back on the planet.  We have to turn around and look."  She advanced on her mate, shaking her fist in the air as fire shot from her eyes. 

"We can not.  I have to return to Capital World immediately and claim my throne.  The universe is in chaos and I am in danger of losing everything!"  He shouted with equal vigor.  Once he had the reins of power firmly within his grasp once again, then they could look for their son.  His child was strong.  He would survive.

Bulma gaped at him.  She couldn't believe that he was going to abandon his own child in favor of his thirst for power.  What was she talking about?  This was Vegeta.  The fact he suggested they retrieve their son in the first place had come as a surprise to her.  It was about time the real man surfaced to face her.  She closed her eyes, her brilliant mind racing for solutions.

Vegeta had fought his entire life to achieve one goal.  The death of Frieza.  Now that he had succeeded the next natural step was the assimilation of his throne.  When they had first made their compact, she had promised him the crown.  She could not deny him his rightful prize, but she couldn't push away the lingering feeling of betrayal that took seed inside of her heart.

"You're right of course."  She agreed and Vegeta blinked at her.  He felt his rage drain away as he looked at his helpless mate.  She looked so fragile standing there with a blood-stained bandage taped to her chest.  He wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her against his heart.  She was always so willing to compromise with him.  To accept him in every way.

"You go on to Capital World and I will take a Galaxy Runner and look for Trunks."

She understood him like no other, she was the perfect mate.  Wait, what did she say?

"Fuck no!"  He shouted, startling her with his vehemence.  The panic that swept across his barren soul was instantaneous.  He could not, would not, let her leave him!  Ever!  Did she understand what he had gone through to have her?  Did she realize how close he had been to losing his mind?  There was no way he was letting his mate run off in a short range battle cruiser, to search for their child on her own.  He would cut off his own tail first.

Bulma glared at her lover.  His aggressive feelings of fear puzzled her.  Vegeta was skilled at hiding his emotions from her, but the strongest ones always leaked through.  She had yet to master that particular technique and the spurts of rage she was transmitting was proof enough.  It drifted through their link, sparking in his mind like firecrackers.

This was the perfect solution to their problem.  He could go to claim his throne and while he was putting the universe to rights she could find their son.  What was his problem now?  Didn't he have faith in her abilities?  She had managed to stay alive a long time before he had come into her life.  He had no idea the amount of adversity she had overcome while serving their vile lord.  She was a very capable woman.  She had given him the tools to defeat Frieza, not the other way around.  Without her, he would still be licking that lizard's proverbial boots.

"And why not?"  She snapped dangerously.

Vegeta stalked up to her, his obsidian eyes burning into her.  "There is no way I am letting you out of my sight, woman.  You are staying by my side where you belong.  You are my female and you will obey me."  He growled softly.  Bulma seethed at his chauvinistic statement.  Her entire body puffed like a hissing kitten and she spit her words through bared teeth.

"I'm not a possession Vegeta.  I'm a grown woman who can take care of herself and I am going to go find Trunks."  She stood her ground, but she couldn't stop the shiver of uncertainty that was born in the base of her stomach.

"You are mine."  His words were a silken rope, binding her to him for eternity, a velvet box meant to entrap her.  She stared up at him, lost in the dark depths of his eyes.  He captured her attention completely and she had to fight against the urge to acquiesce.  Valiantly, she struggled to form her reply.  If she couldn't convince him with logic then she would have to arouse his parental instincts, dormant that they may be.

"I have to save my son, Vegeta.  I can't sit around and do nothing while he is in danger.  I can't wait for you to get your empire in order.  That could take months.  What if something horrible were to happen to him?  What if he were to die?  I could never survive that."  Tears rolled down her face and her already red eyes became even more swollen.  Vegeta brushed her tears from her cheeks, his newly awakened heart aching at her pain.  He could feel her strong need to protect her cub beating at her and he was filled with pride at his mate's solid determination, but he could not allow her to endanger herself needlessly.

She was thinking like a human.  A female of her species.  She was not considering the fact that Trunks was half Saiyan.  The cubs of his race did not need protecting.  There was very little that could harm them, she just didn't seem to realize that.

"Trunks is a Saiyan Prince.  He is more resilient than anything you could ever imagine.  He will be fine, my mate.  He is strong and he is a fighter.  I will claim my throne and then we will find him together.  Do not fear so."  His words were meant to be reassuring but they just angered Bulma even more and he could feel it thrumming inside of her.  Her eyes flashed and he felt resentment boiling up inside of him for her stubbornness.

"He's just a boy, Vegeta.  He needs his mother and father to protect him.  That's what parents do.  You can't abandon him."  She cried, desperate to force him to see her way.  They could not leave their son to an uncertain fate while they busied themselves with more _important_ matters.  The most important thing in the universe should be the welfare of their child.  He shouldn't be put on hold because it was inconvenient.

Vegeta growled deeply in his throat.  He couldn't comprehend her irrational display of so much emotion.  He had suffered far worse as a child and he survived just fine.  His son could handle a small amount of discomfort in the name of the throne.  As a prince he had to learn sacrifice.  He would be stronger for it.

"It is his place to fight for survival.  It is a right of passage.  I did it and so shall he."  Vegeta hissed down at her, frustrated with her lack of understanding.

Bulma could feel Vegeta's thoughts and her heart became chilled.  The damage his father had done to him was nearly irreparable.  She didn't even think he knew exactly what he was doing.  He was willing to desert his own son in the name of power, just as his father had done to him.  The thought of Vegeta standing alone as a child in Frieza's court made her stomach roll.  What if something similar where to happen to Trunks?  She could not allow it.  Vegeta believed that a prince had to be strong and independent.  Anything else would be an unsuitable heir.  Bulma believed that it was her duty to shield her child from such an awful fate.

"You have to let me go, Vegeta."  She rasped brokenly.  He grabbed her too him, his fingers biting deeply into her arms.

"Never!  I forbid you to leave.  You will stay here even if I have to lock you up.  Do you understand me, Bulma?"  He shook her harshly for emphasis and her blue eyes widened.  Every time she asked to leave him, it felt as though icy fingers were tearing into his heart.  Why was she so eager to leave him?  Was this just an excuse?  Did she regret her decision to be his mate?  She was the only anchor that he had to the rational world.  She could not abandon him again.

She nodded silently, staring up at her lover.  His obsessive need to have her near him frightened her deeply.  She couldn't quite see into the shadows of his mind, but she knew that his fear stemmed from something that had happened on Namek.  He told her very little of what had occurred there.  Only that he had exacted his vengeance and that he had achieved the Legendary.  Slowly, so he wouldn't notice her retreat, she began to wall up her mind against him.  Though she wasn't able to admit it openly to herself, she already knew in her heart that only pain was in store for the both of them in the immediate future.

"I understand, Vegeta."  And she did, but not the way he meant.  She understood that she had to save her son, without the aid of her mate.


	4. Capital World

Disclaimer:  Don't own it.

Chapter Four

Capital World

Herding two dozen children is essentially easier than you would think.  You just don't do it.  After several false starts and one near miss where they thought they lost one, Raditz and Nappa ended up back in the room, glassy, wide eyes staring at them in fear.

Sighing deeply, they decided on barricading the room and taking a defensive position.  After all, they were warriors, they knew how to occupy enemy territory and set a perimeter.  However, what happened after that could have not astounded the two men more.

After one or two skirmishes, the attacking soldiers turned tail and fled before the Saiyans even had a real opportunity to engage them.  Shrugging, they took up their stance at the door and waited to see what would happen next.  They didn't have long to wait.

After about an hour, soldiers began to pour into the courtyard, stopping a dozen paces from the warriors and filing into organized lines.  Raditz and Nappa crouched down in a defensive posture, certain that this fight may well be their last.  Sure they had decimated worlds, but they were now staring into the hard eyes of Frieza's royal army.  They could defeat a group of ten or fifteen at a time, but not forty or fifty and much to their dismay the ranks kept swelling steadily until finally slowing to a trickle.

Without warning, as if an order had been shouted into the tension filled air, the men knelt before the Saiyan warriors.

Raditz and Nappa blinked.

A purple skinned man stepped forward and the warriors instantly recognized him as a soldier named Domin, Frieza's Man at Arms, the General of his royal army and military advisor.  He knelt before the Saiyans, his fist over his heart.

"All Hail, Prince Vegeta, the Lord of the Universe."  He uttered with finality.  Behind him, his men echoed the cry and it was all that the warriors could do to stop their jaws from unhinging.

The simple fact of the matter was that there had to be a ruler and Vegeta had already proven his worth by defeating Frieza.  Sure the death of the warlord caused upheaval on Capital World, more like a celebration of sorts that had gotten out of hand, but with the arrival of the Lord's trusted men, it was time to get back down to business.  The business of reclaiming their stranglehold on the filthy masses and reestablishing their dominance as the meanest, baddest army in the universe.

Everyone agreed that it was better to make the first move and pledge their allegiance to the new lord before he came back and punished those who dared to defy him.  It was natural for the soldiers to assume that he had sent his men ahead to secure his throne and organize his affairs until he arrived.  Nappa and Raditz set about doing just that.

By the time Vegeta arrived on Capital World, much to his consternation and Bulma's snide condescension, he found the planet to be running smoothly, the palace repaired and the cities rebuilding themselves.  They stepped into the grand hall of the palace, accompanied by Zarbon and were greeted by Nappa, Raditz, and Delia.

"What is she doing here?"  Growled Vegeta at the cowering golden woman.

She stood before Vegeta her head hung in shame.  She had been dreading this for days.  She knew that Vegeta would more than likely kill her for her treachery and her only consolation was that she had been able to see her son once again.  She was surprised when she felt Raditz step into place next to her.  He had been busy organizing the soldiers and they had barely spoken since the first night, much less touched.  His silence had been deafening to her and she knew that she would never regain his trust. 

She had made herself busy righting the palace, but every time she saw Raditz in the corridors she looked at him with sorrowful eyes, pain radiating out from her heart as he passed by her without even a glance in her direction.  When Bulma and Vegeta had arrived she had been in the kitchen washing the dishes.  She was humming a happy tune when Raditz had darkened the doorway, his implacable black eyes boring into her.  The plate she had been cleaning fell from her numb fingers and shattered onto the marble floor.  Stoically, he stalked up to her, taking her by the arm and led her to the grand hall, where they waited in silence.  She was certain he would add his voice to her damnation, her betrayal of him ran just as deep as it did to the Lord.

"She has come to beg forgiveness and promise to be a loyal subject to you until the end of her days."  Raditz met the eyes of his lord steadily, his impassive visage belying his trepidation.  He couldn't believe he was willing to face his Prince for a woman.  A woman that had lied to him and used him.  A woman that he should be volunteering to blast himself.

For all of the festering rage that boiled under his skin, even deeper below was an underlying current of caring that he refused to acknowledge openly.  He wanted to punish Delia for her treachery, but he didn't want her to die for it.  He didn't want to think about what her absence would mean to him.

Delia blinked up at Raditz barely able to believe her ears.  Without further coaching she fell to her knees, her head bowed in submission.  "I plead for forgiveness, My Lord.  My will was not my own and I am deeply ashamed of my actions.  I vow to serve you and your family, if you would allow me too."

Vegeta snarled, his teeth gleaming under the sadistic curl of his lip.  "Isn't that nice.  I'm comforted by the fact that your life will be a short one."  He raised his hand, a ball of indigo power forming in his palm.  Raditz tensed, uncertainty swamping him.  If he challenged Vegeta he would die, if he didn't his lover would become ash. 

"Prince Vegeta!"  Raditz barked before he could stop himself.  He stuttered to a stop before regaining his courage.  "I mean, M'lord.  Perhaps a quick death would be too hasty.  She should have to live with what she has done and I could find a way to discipline her appropriately."  He met his Prince's gaze steadily, refusing to back down while ignoring the tiny voice that whispered of his emanate demise.

Vegeta listened to Raditz plea dispassionately, the ki blast still waiting to be released from his palm.  "Pretty words Raditz, but it doesn't hide the fact that you want to keep your little backstabbing whore around to amuse yourself with.  I will not have her filthy person lingering in my palace halls."  Vegeta turned his deadly gaze back to Delia, who stood unmoving before him, acceptance of her fate etched on her beautiful features.  Before Raditz could make the decision that would forever change his life, a shrill voice rang out.

"Stop!  Just stop it Vegeta."  Bulma grabbed Vegeta by the arm and he instantly extinguished his ki to prevent her from getting hurt.

"What are you doing woman?"  He shook her off him.  "Get off me so I can fry the bitch like she deserves."

"No, she doesn't deserve that."  Bulma insisted, her blue eyes dark with anger.  The same anger he had been unable to escape for weeks as they traveled to Capital World.  She had quite literally made his life hell.  He knew now why a man should never take a mate.  To make matters worse, she refused to share her bed with him and he was feeling more than a little 'tense'.

"She is the one who ratted us out!"  Vegeta's own anger ran deep.  Delia had been the catalyses that led to him being separated from Bulma in the first place.  She was the reason that he had lost his mate to the dark abyss.

"No it wasn't her fault.  Frieza held her son.  A mother will do _anything_ to protect their child."  Bulma accentuated the word anything while glaring deeply into Vegeta's eyes.  He sneered in response, bone weary of hearing the same argument day in and day out.

"What is it that you want woman?"  Vegeta felt defeated.  At this point he was willing to give her almost anything if it made her shut up and leave him in peace.  Anything but what she truly wanted.  To leave him.

"Give her to me as my maid."  Bulma demanded haughtily, already the cloak of queenship settling on her shoulders confidently.

"What?  Have you forgotten woman, but she is the reason that you died in the first place.  She betrayed us.  She betrayed you, Bulma."  He spat with exasperated frustration.  Bulma's arctic façade remained impervious to his logic and her eyes stabbed him with icy blades.  He looked away, unwilling to withstand the force of her displeasure any longer than he had too.  "Fine, whatever, but don't come crying to me when she betrays your trust once again."  Vegeta turned away disgusted, his hand massaging his aching temples.

"She won't."  Bulma declared.

"Right, until someone uses her brat against her again."  He spat.

Raditz cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the royal couple. "Actually we have retrieved the boy, along with several high ranking children.  Frieza seems to have collected them from various aristocrats around the universe and was using them against their parents."  Vegeta absorbed this information curiously.  It wasn't such a bad idea.  Based on what he had learned in the last couple weeks, a mother's devotion far outweighed any man's determination on the battlefield.  If the children's mothers were anything like Bulma they were browbeating their mates into good behavior in order to secure the safety of their offspring.  It wouldn't be such a bad idea to continue the tactic.  He stiffened with realization and he slowly turned to face his queen.

"I suppose you want us to return them to their families?"  He grit out between clenched teeth.  Bulma returned his look with the haughty gaze of an ice princess.

"No, I don't."  Her voice was even and calm.  He heard that tone before.  When she told him that they needed to murder Magin Rox in order to set their plan in motion.  Vegeta blinked at his mate, uncertain of what was going on in her head.

"Why?"  He questioned, honestly interested in what she had to say.

"Frieza was right.  Their presence does guarantee good behavior from your subjects.  However, he went about it the wrong way."

Vegeta cocked a wary brow at her.  "How so?"

"He told them that he would kill them if they misbehaved.  That was unnecessary.  He should have couched it more in the terms of an opportunity.  Their children would be raised in the heart of culture in the royal court.  It's the perfect place to make political matches and strengthen a family's power by earning favor among the ruling household.  Frieza caged the children, but we should educate them.  More importantly we should treat them as our own foster children.  Like family.  When they grow up and take over their family's business then their loyalty to our household will be assured." 

At the end of her pragmatic speech every one could only blink at her.  Vegeta felt pride bloom in his chest that this beautiful, intelligent creature was his mate.  She was the perfect queen.  Delia looked on with horror, stunned that her friend could be so ruthless as to separate entire families for her own political gain.

"Well then, I will have to talk to them about that.  Perhaps some of the children we have belong to the ruling households of the words that have broken away from the empire."  Vegeta smirked down at Bulma and for the first time in weeks she returned his smile.

"Perhaps you had better let me speak to them Vegeta.  You can stand behind me and look intimidating."  She snickered at her mate, who humphed back at her.  "Let's face it.  I'm better at talking than you.  I'll handle the diplomacy and you take care of the show of power.  The sooner we whip the empire back into the shape the sooner we can get our son.  Right Vegeta?"  She clasped her hands in front of her, raising her blue eyes to meet his black ones.  He gave an almost unperceivable nod and she released the breath she had been holding.

"Very well, if you will excuse me, I wish to freshen up."  Bulma nodded to the men and turned on her heel, her long skirts twitching in a feminine show of victory.  Delia scampered after her, throwing a worried look over her shoulder as she followed her new mistress from the room.

Vegeta watched Bulma go, his head pounding from her constant demands, his chest aching with the urge to make her happy and his groin swelling with the need to have her in his arms.  In all he was a mess of conflicting desires that all centered on Bulma.

"I don't understand her."  He muttered absently to himself, but Zarbon's keen hearing picked up the words.

"M'lord, the sooner you realize that women are beyond understanding the sooner you will be a happier man."  He chuckled indulgently, ignoring the nasty look Vegeta tossed his way.  The men followed their lord to his war room, already deep into a discussion of battle tactics, the enigma of women left for a later time.

By habit, Bulma returned to her old chambers, leaving the door open so Delia could follow her into the room.  She walked up to her bed, smoothing her hand over the fur pelt that was still draped like a comforter across the frame.  Tears welled up in her eyes for what felt like the thousandth time since she had awoken to the realization that her son was indeed gone.  How had everything gone so wrong?

Delia made a small noise behind her, alerting Bulma to her presence.  She dried her tears and stretched a false smile across her quivering lips.  She turned to face her friend that she hadn't seen in many months and found herself engulfed in a ferocious hug.  Such a show of affection broke the dam that held back her rioting emotions and she sobbed brokenly into her friend's arms.  Delia's own stress mixed with Bulma's obvious grief, rocked her own wall of courage and she soon joined her in the outpouring of tears.

Snuffling loudly, Bulma pulled back, wiping Delia's golden hair back from her face and staring into her tear drenched violet eyes.

"So you found Jarrell?"  It was more of a statement than a question and Delia nodded in response.

"I'm so happy to finally have him safe, but I was so worried while we waited for you and Vegeta."  She dropped her head down, unable to look into her friend's gaze when she spoke of her betrayal to her.  "Thank you so much for saving me Bulma.  I owe you so much.  I can't even begin to repay you.  I want you to know that I will do anything that you ask of me.  It is only right that I honor you with my service."  The woman swore quietly.  She would spend the rest of her life a loyal maid to her lady and she would not regret a minute of it.  This woman had given her trust when she could have turned her away.

"None of that is necessary Delia.  I told Vegeta what he wanted to hear so he would spare you.  That is all."  Bulma waved her hand dismissively, her sadness reappearing with her words.  She moved lethargically over to her vanity, fingering the scattered cosmetics that still lay untouched after her death.  Delia ignored her muttered words, knowing in her heart she would find a way to repay her friend, but right now she felt the urge to assuage her friend's obvious depression.

"What's wrong Bulma?"  Delia questioned softly, but Bulma kept her back to her.  At her words, Bulma's shoulders slumped and in the mirror, Delia could see her cover her eyes with her hand.

"Trunks is gone.  Someone has stolen him."  She uttered brokenly and Delia was instantly by her side, comforting her with open arms and wordless mutters of condolence.  Once Bulma had calmed herself enough to speak, Delia asked the question that ate at her.

"Why aren't you and Vegeta searching for him?"  The question hung in the room like a death knell and Delia gulped as the silence stretched for an eternity.  Finally, Bulma turned to face her friend, her eyes blazing with barely checked fires of anger.

"Because he had to rush back here and play king of the castle."  She spat vehemently.  The old smoldering fury roared to life and she began to pace the room like a caged tigress.  Delia backed away and slowly sank onto the edge of the bed, folding her hands neatly in her lap while she watched the queen of the universe hiss to herself.  The golden woman's mind raced for a way to defuse the situation and came up unbearably short.  There was no way to console a grieving mother whose only child was missing.

"I'm sure that Vegeta wants to find Trunks as much as you do, but he does have certain responsibilities that he has to see to now that he has defeated Frieza."  Delia tried to make her voice soothing and calm, but her words only lent Bulma more fury.

"Yes, the Empire.  The end all be all.  Why can't I just have a normal life, Delia?  Why can't I just be happy, with a home, a husband and my children surrounding me?  I'm sick and tired of court intrigue and men who think they know everything."  Bulma was pacing in circles now, her long hair coming undone for the twist on the top of her head.

"You know that isn't true Bulma.  You live for court intrigue; it's the very air you breathe.  If the Empire collapses think of all those families that will be torn apart.  Look at how much death already the upheaval of Vegeta's ascension has caused.  Hundreds of worlds have broken away from the protection of his rule and lawlessness is running rampant.  Many people are suffering and Vegeta has to do his duty as the Emperor."  Delia watched wide-eyed as her words had a chilling effect on Bulma.  Her pacing ceased and she stopped twisting her fingers into her blue tresses.  The anger cooled inside of her and when she turned to Delia the golden woman felt a shiver skitter down her spine as Bulma's icy eyes locked with hers.

"You're right.  I'm being unfair.  Vegeta has a duty to the empire.  I promised him the throne and I delivered.  He can scamper off and play Lordship all he wants now.  All I want is to find my son."  Bulma's cool words feathered over Delia causing goose bumps to rise at her flat tones.

"Why don't you go look for him yourself?"  Delia gulped as she asked the question.  Somehow she knew the answer to that would only infuriate Bulma even more, but she couldn't stop the words that escaped her lips.

"Because, mister high and mighty has decreed that I never leave his side."  Bulma snapped, but then something darkened in her eyes and her forehead creased with worry.  She turned back to Delia, crossing the room quickly and kneeling before her.  Delia looked down at her in shock as she let Bulma clutch her hands in her own.

"Something happened to Vegeta while he was on Namek, Delia.  I don't know what, he won't talk about it.  But it was something bad."   She whispered the words to her friend, as though she was afraid of being overheard.

"Well fighting Frieza must have been really traumatizing."  Delia whispered back just as quietly, their heads drawing together as they shared their secrets.

"Yes, I know that, but I think something else happened.  Something that had to do with me."  Bulma thought back to their many arguments on the ship on the way to Capital World and it always came back to one thing.  She was not to leave Vegeta.  Ever.  At first she was flattered at Vegeta's possessiveness, then angered, but now she was becoming more and more disturbed.  She had the unyielding sense that what he felt for her was twisted on the inside.  So many years of emotional neglect wouldn't allow him to admit his feeling towards her, so he turned her into something else.  An object that was to be owned, to be locked away from the prying eyes of strangers, in an uncrackable vault of steel.  A key, he had called her during one of their many fights.  She was his key and he would never let her go.

"How is that possible Bulma?  You were dead."  Delia forced the strangled words out of her closed throat.  The thought of her friend's death brought her terrible grief.

"I know, but something did happen.  I'm certain of it."  She looked away from Delia's piercing gaze, unable to face her during her next awful confession.  "I'm frightened.  I'm so very frightened of him."  Bulma's words were a betrayal to the love she felt inside for Vegeta, yet she couldn't stop them from being true.  Vegeta's irrational behavior set her on edge, making her panicky and nervous.  Something wasn't right and deep inside, past the shadows of her mind lurked the answer.  She just couldn't pin it down.

"I know that Prince Vegeta is quite scary."  Delia shuddered from personal experience.  "But, surely he would never hurt you.  You are his queen."  Delia paused uncertainly.  "Right?"  She questioned awkwardly.  Her knowledge of Vegeta was limited at best, but what she did know of him did not lend her any confidence.  He had already killed Bulma once and even if it was under duress it only proved one thing.  Vegeta could hurt anyone if he put his mind to it.

"Vegeta has changed and until he finds a balance inside of himself, I can not live with him."  Bulma absently rubbed the rune on her chest.  The same rune that she had cut away, only to have it grow back unblemished, the crimson mark forever a reminder of her death.

"What are you planning, Bulma?"  Delia's voice quivered with trepidation.  She knew that tone, it could only mean trouble.  Bulma shook her thoughts away and darted her eyes up to her friend's.  She gave a weak smile and stood up.

"Nothing."  She moved away so her friend couldn't see her face, but Delia was unconvinced.

"Bulma."  Delia's one word warning cut through the room and the queen stiffened.

"What?  I'm just going to do what I was told.  I will help Vegeta put the universe to rights and then we will find our son.  The first thing we have to do is set up a conference with all the rebelling worlds so we can come to an understanding."  She moved to her desk, already sorting through the numerous items that needed to be taken care of while dismissing Delia and her pressing question from her mind.  Delia sighed deeply and walked to the door, knowing she would get no answer from her friend today.  She paused at the open portal, looking back to see Bulma hunched over the desk, desperately scratching some ingenious plan onto a pad of paper.  Delia shook her head sadly and left the room, vowing silently to help her mistress however she could.

Days melted into weeks and Vegeta and Bulma worked non-stop to put the empire back into order.  Not surprisingly they made and excellent team.  What one lacked the other made up for, completing a whole.  Once word got out that Bulma was still alive, those loyal to her began to appear at the palace, the first one being her trusted assistant Jace.  Slowly her network of spies settled into place and she used information gleaned from the subspace web to bring together the universe.  Bulma was a frenzy of activity.  Working until exhaustion finally claimed her in the deep of night and barely eating.  Nothing that Vegeta could say or do would halt her pace.

Bulma was in charge of diplomatic relations and treaties while Vegeta advanced his ever growing troops and began to reclaim worlds.  Their ultimate goal was a conference between the Shari-Reaves union and the newly established empire.  Though they were slowly gaining ground, many worlds were still ceded from Vegeta's domain, defying his law.  His first instinct was to visit the words and instruct them in a flurry of blood that might makes right, but Bulma convinced him otherwise and the whispered words of Frieza echoing in his head stayed his hand.  He did not want to be a tyrant, but in the end he would rule. 

His queen organized 'peace talks' as she called them and he was impressed with her ability to get everyone in a room together to speak.  He wanted nothing more than to see Bulma smile at him once again, to be in the same room with her for more than a handful of minutes before she walked out, so he conceded to her wishes to hear out the demands of the world leaders before he blasted them.  All seemed to be going well, until the eve of the day he was to leave for the conference.  Then all hell broke loose and the tenuous cease fire that he had with his mate blew up disastrously in his face.


	5. Mind and Body

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or Vegeta, but that doesn't stop me from creating impossible situations where I get to think about him naked.

Chapter Five

Mind and Body

"Vegeta! I found him. I found Trunks!" Bulma burst into Vegeta's study in a whirlwind of excitement. Her cheeks were flushed red and her eyes glittered with happiness. The glow that used to shine out from the inner most part of her soul had dulled during the passing months, but her news caused that light to illuminate once again.

Vegeta stood in front of his desk, awaiting her entrance. As the weeks had gone by, Bulma had become skilled at hiding her once open hearted emotions from Vegeta, forcing him to rely on his ki sensing ability. With every passing day, Bulma pushed herself ruthlessly, existing on minimal sleep and even less food, until only sheer determination drove her. Worry had grown within Vegeta and almost without conscious realization, he stretched out his senses to touch her flickering ki every few minutes to reassure himself that she was safe.

So when her ki had approached his door he had been ready for her. As she raced across the room towards him, he could not suppress the sorrow that engulfed him. He should have felt her elation the moment she made her discovery, but her forced mental separation left him feeling hostile and untrusting. Without the ability to see her thoughts, she could plot against him just as she had done with Frieza.

He shook his doubts away as she reached him, flinging herself into his arms. He held her tight, relishing the feel of her body against his, stirring the dormant sexual tension that simmered just beneath the surface. The strong predatory animal inside of him was aroused by the scent of his mate and it mixed with the feeling of homecoming that bloomed at her mere presence. How he had missed having her, warm and loving, in his arms where she belonged, not the distant artic wind she had become, blowing through the room, leaving him cold and barren.

She pulled back, her shimmering eyes locking with his, gleeful tears streaming down her cheeks and over her upturned lips.

"I have the location of Trunks!" She gasped happily, while waving a collection of papers in her hand. "He was taken by slavers." Her voice became tainted with disgust and Vegeta tightened his arms around her in comfort.

"It doesn't matter. We will retrieve them. Have you found their hideout?" He questioned, his own happiness thumping dully in his heart at her words. Finally, the Gods were smiling on him. Once he retrieved their son he could go back to having his mate permanently in his arms and no longer would he have to worry about her leaving him.

"He is being held by a very prosperous slaver on Atha 12, by the name of Saffron." She twisted away to agitatedly pace the room, while Vegeta stood motionless by his desk.

"Isn't that in the Badlands?" He frowned at her, watching as her graceful body stalked by him. The Badlands was a section of space outside the acknowledged borders of the universe. It was inhabited by cutthroats and criminals. He wasn't entirely surprised that was where Trunks had ended up. Leave it to his son to wind up in worst possible place, the slums of the universe.

"Yes. From the information that I was able to glean, he rules the Badlands like a pirate king. Anybody who wants sanctuary has to pay him a tithe, ten percent of their plunder. Many of Frieza's soldiers ended up there after his defeat." Bulma brooded thoughtfully at her words. She had put her network of spies to work, not only trying to repair the damage to the empire after Frieza's fall, but finding her son as well. Her sources could tell her very little about the goings on beyond Vegeta's domain. Although information was cheap to come by it was notoriously inaccurate. You can't trust a criminal to tell you anything but lies.

"I see. Well his pathetic reign is about to come to a close. As soon as I am done negotiating with the Shari-Reeves union, I will go to Atha 12 and retrieve our son." He announced his decision with the confidence of a man who had finally found a way to appease his mate. Bulma stopped her pacing and turned to face him, her silence deafening. He fought the urge to cringe as she opened her mouth.

Bulma counted to ten before replying. She desperately wanted to work out a compromise that would satisfy them both, but Vegeta didn't know the meaning of the word. She knew that the conference was important. Hell, she had set it up, but her son came first.

"The conference could last weeks Vegeta." She stated carefully, making sure her purpose was clear.

Vegeta sighed deeply, rubbing his tired eyes with his hand. "Woman, you know that this is important. I can't postpone it." He glared at her, the deadly murderer staring out at her from the depths of his black eyes. "I can call it off though. I will retrieve Trunks then I will regain control of the empire the way I want to. Do you want that Bulma?" His voice whispered over her, shaking her to her very core.

"N-no." She stuttered before gaining confidence. "I want you to go to the meeting. I was just thinking that you could send some men with me and I could go find him."

Vegeta's jaw cracked under the strain of his temper. He tried to remain calm, knowing that an outburst of anger would get him nowhere. "Do not force me to repeat myself again, woman. You are not going anywhere." He held up his hand to stall her. "If you want me to send men to get Trunks, I will do so. Since you seem so set on stealing my right to personally see to the punishment of the man responsible for this mess then so be it."

"But Vegeta I could go and…"

"No!" Vegeta's thunderous roar shook the rafters and Bulma's eyes widened with fear, before narrowing with fury. She drew herself up, looking down her nose at him.

"Fine." Her icy utterance skimmed up his spine.

"Fine." He repeated back to her, his voice just as emotionless.

She turned on her heel without another word and exited his room with the controlled refinement of a lady scorned. As the door clicked shut, Vegeta turned away, his barely restrained anger erupting to the surface. His hand whipped out, striking the offending heavy wooden desk, ignoring the loud crash as it shattered against the far wall.

"Fine." He muttered again while staring blankly at the empty spot where his desk used to sit.

"Wait, not fine." Slowly Vegeta realized that fine was a four letter word. Bulma had just told him to fuck off, in an oh so polite lady like fashion that only meant one thing. She was intending on defying him.

With a growl of barely suppressed frustration he spun on his heel and followed after his headstrong mate. He entered her room only minutes after she had arrived. She whirled around staring wide eyed as he slammed the door shut, leaning heavily against the frame while his black eyes stripped her of her costly arrogance. Every day that she held herself aloof from the man she loved, caused her enormous heartache, all in the name of righteousness.

The only light in the room was a desk lamp in the corner far from where she stood at the foot of her bed. He glanced around, realizing that this was the first time he had ever been in her chambers. He noted with some sense of relief that she kept the pelt of the snow beast he had slain draped over her bed, a sign that she still cared for him, no matter how much she spurned him.

"What are you intending, Bulma?" He lowered the gravelly pitch of his voice to a soft growl to match the ambiance of the shadowed room and she shivered as his words awoke her sleeping passion. She had locked her desires away as she had worked, afraid of letting them out. Afraid of being touched by Vegeta and losing her determination. There was something about his lips on her flesh, his hands on his skin that drove all rational thought from her mind, leaving her a helpless puddle of wanting.

"Nothing." She muttered unable to meet his gaze. Her eyes skimmed over the bed, but she quickly looked away, staring at the floor instead.

He pushed himself away from the door, taking a step forward. "I don't believe you."

Her head darted up and her eyes froze him with their fury. "Stop right there Vegeta. Don't you dare take another step forward. I don't want you touching me. Period! I mean it." She screamed with desperate conviction. She could not afford to have him within arms reach. He would take away her reason and leave her empty.

In compliance to ff.net rules, I have cut this chapter short. You can view the rest of the story on my website which is listed on my bio. Please remember you must be over 17 to view.

Tempest


	6. Ceansaigh

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ

Chapter Six

Ceansaigh

Bulma woke up with the feeling of warmth and contentment surrounding her. She snuggled down into the bed, nuzzling the soft fur comforter. She stretched out her arm, her fingers sliding against the bare sheets. Slowly she opened her eyes, focusing on the large expanse of the empty bed.

She felt a bolt of sorrow strike her heart, but she quickly pushed it down. Vegeta had left for the conference without waking her to say goodbye. Her hand curled into a fist, clutching the sheets between her fingers. She buried her face into her pillow, inhaling his musky scent deeply while trying to choke back her tears. Already she missed him and he hadn't even been gone for more than a few hours.

She had begged for him to take her, but he refused. The conference was too dangerous. It would be the perfect opportunity to assassinate the new emperor and Vegeta didn't want to take the chance that someone would strike at him through her. She knew that she should be worried that something might happen to Vegeta and she supposed deep down she was, but honestly she couldn't imagine anyone being strong enough to harm him. She was more upset that he denied her request to go with him. She knew that they would have more success if she was the one speaking and not Vegeta. He would have a hard enough time controlling his temper as it was and without her there to help curb his ferocious tendencies, it could be disastrous.

She dragged her naked form from the warm comfort of the bed and crossed gracefully over to her closet. Her clothes were sadly lacking for someone who was supposed to be queen. She shrugged in disinterest. She had been much too busy the last weeks to worry about the state of her wardrobe. She pulled out a suitable pant suit that she could wear to the lab and began to dress while lost in her thoughts.

She knew that Vegeta wouldn't break his promise and that more than likely a contingent of men had set out already for the Badlands. If all went well she would have her son back in her arms by the end of the month and Vegeta would return victorious from the meeting. If all went well. Bulma looked skyward, muttering under her breath. Well a girl could dream.

Once she had finished her morning routine she opened her door only to come face to face with Raditz.

"What are you doing?" She blinked at him in confusion, a curious sense of déjà vu drifting over her.

"Guarding you." Was Raditz clipped reply. She regarding him warily and he returned her stare blankly. He showed no hint of his true intentions, but Bulma's agile mind was already piecing together the facts. Her face reddened with indignation and Raditz braced himself for the coming storm.

"Spying on me is more like it! You are here to make sure that I don't run off against Vegeta's orders, aren't you?" She screeched with righteous fury.

Raditz remained impassive, his duty to his liege keeping his spine straight. He resisted the urge to cringe under her imperialistic hauteur. "I am merely here to make sure that you come to no harm while the Emperor is away."

"Whether it be from some deviant bent on revenge or from myself if I should try to run away." Bulma's scathing tones dropped to a sarcastic pitch.

Raditz dipped his head in recognition of her acute understanding of the situation. He was under strict orders from his liege that Bulma was not to be left alone unless she was in her rooms. All conversations that she held with any of her staff were to be closely monitored and she was not to be left in private with anyone. She was to be protected from all those seeking to harm her and most importantly she was not to leave the palace grounds for any reason. Vegeta didn't trust his mate to behave while he was away.

"I'm not some priceless treasure that can be kept under lock and key, Raditz." Bulma spat through clenched teeth. "And I will not be kept a prisoner in my own home."

"This is only for your protection, M'lady. Once Vegeta returns he will personally make sure that you are safe at all times. While he is away Nappa and I have the distinct honor of serving you My Queen. We will give our lives to see you unharmed." Raditz vowed while looking deeply into Bulma's eyes. The message was clear. The situation was not under discussion. Raditz would do his duty to his lord no matter how much it displeased his queen. It was something that the royal monarchs would have to fight out amongst themselves, he was just following orders.

Bulma sighed in assent. There was no point in arguing with the warrior. He would fulfill his duty to his Emperor to the death. "Fine. Whatever Raditz, but if you and Nappa are here, who is with Vegeta at the conference?"

She moved passed him down the hall and he fell in step beside her. "The Emperor took Zarbon with him." Though he hid it well, Raditz was displeased with the situation. He knew that guarding his Lord's chosen mate was an honorable duty, but he was uncomfortable being far from Vegeta's side, especially during such a tumultuous time. Although Vegeta was much stronger than he and Nappa they still felt it was their duty to stand beside him as his bodyguards. Zarbon had been an enemy for so long and to suddenly have him elevated to such a trusted position disturbed the two Saiyan warriors.

"Well at least he will have someone there that knows how to smooth talk a crowd. There may be hope yet." Bulma was surprised that Vegeta opted to take Zarbon with him instead of his two bodyguards. It just underscored how much value he placed on keeping her secured within the palace walls. Raditz made no reply to her comment and they slowly made their way to her labs.

After a few moments of silence, Bulma roused herself from her thoughts to ask the question that was nagging at the back of her mind.

"Did he send some men for Trunks?" She asked softly. Although she was certain that he did, she still wanted to make sure. She had no reason to doubt Vegeta, yet at the same time she didn't completely trust him either.

"Of course, M'Lady. They left at the same time as the Emperor." Bulma paused at the door just outside of the lab, her hand on the knob. She looked over her shoulder at Raditz calm face, searching for any untruth, but only honesty shone back. She nodded in acceptance and stepped through the door, Raditz closely on her heels.

Vegeta docked his ship at the space port on the neutral planet of Folaithe Ceo. The world itself was something of a mystery. It sat in the heart of the Empire, yet Frieza had never claimed it as one of his territories. More disturbingly, the world seemed to be able to disappear and reappear at will. The space around the planet, an entire galaxy's worth, would remain hauntingly empty for centuries at a time. No one dared to enter the forbidden area for fear that they would vanish without explanation along with the planet. Then unexpectedly it would reappear, usually during some universal upheaval, but not a whisper would be heard from the inhabitants. However, just its mere presences was usually enough to calm the souls of those who raged in battle. It was a documented fact that whenever the world reveled itself, tranquility would engulf the universe and there was an unprecedented reduction in violence. Rumors abounded that it was a ghost planet that Frieza had destroyed long ago in a fit of fury, but no one was brave enough to test the theory by drawing near it.

Both Vegeta and Bulma had been awed when the planet suddenly reappeared, but more surprisingly was the message that they received. The De Danann royal family welcomed them to partake in their generosity during the peace talks. They most humbly requested to host the event and act as a mediator between the two warring super powers. For the first time in her short life, Bulma had been shocked into silence and Vegeta could only stare at the missive. Simultaneously, they both felt honored and apprehensive.

Everyone agreed that it was the perfect neutral ground where both parties would feel safe. Vegeta however, felt a great deal of trepidation. Frieza had been unwilling to enslave the world and that alone made Vegeta wary. The power that they held must be monstrous but he could feel no hint of it as he made his way down the corridors. As far back as written history, nobody had been invited to visit the reclusive planet and Vegeta absorbed every detail with the sharp mind of a warrior. At the corners of his vision he could see a floating cloud of white, but whenever he turned his head it would disappear. The moment he stepped foot on the world he felt a lessening of tension in his back, his tail relaxed slightly around his waist and he felt a mediocre of peace.

He and Zarbon were met by a welcoming committee of minor diplomats that fawned over Vegeta until his stomach churned. Oddly, they were not representatives of Folaithe Ceo, but servants of the other leaders who had already landed. They led them to the large sprawling palace of the ruling household of the planet. Although the palace was a luxurious dwelling it seemed to be formed out of the land itself, instead of a structure built upon it. The white stone walls were delicately carved with lifelike images of wildlife surrounded by dense forests or frolicking in a sunlit meadow. More than once, Vegeta turned his narrowed gaze on the scene, almost certain that he had seen one of the animals move. Several times they had to edge close to the walls in order to squeeze by massive trees that sprouted up from the floor, reaching their arms up through an opening in the ceiling.

They were shown to a spacious suite of rooms that were elegantly decorated in white and spring green. Sheer panels of cloth of both colors fell to the floor, blowing gently in the breeze from the open balcony. Four trees as thick around as three men dominated the room and Vegeta could see that they guarded a silk draped bed, their roots entwining to form a wide headboard. Their thick branches formed a canopy of bright green that protected him from the opening in the ceiling.

Vegeta glanced down at his feet and he was surprised to find that instead of carpet the room was covered in thick, sweet-smelling grass. It spread out to the edges of the room and delicate vines crawled up the walls, blooming with small white flowers. He followed their progress and found the enclosed portion of the ceiling to be encased in vines as well, all leading to a great crystal chandelier that hung in the center of the room. The tear dropped multifaceted crystal captured the natural light, splashing a rainbow of color on the floors and walls.

As Vegeta finished his examination of the room there was a soft knock at the door. Zarbon crossed the room to open them, stumbling back to allow a striking woman entrance. She stepped forward and even Vegeta couldn't stop his eyes from roving over her body. He felt no lust, but he was definitely aware of her allure.

She was ethereal in appearance. Her pale blue hair was gathered up into a long pony tail that cascaded down to her the curve of her hips. The style revealed her elongated ears that ended in points and accentuated her finely boned, elegant features. Her eyes slanted upwards and were fringed with light green lashes. Her eyes were the color of the deepest oceans and when Vegeta stared too long it felt like he was being sucked into a whirlpool of agelessness. Her skin was powder white and she was draped in the sheerest veils of shimmering silver that both covered and teased.

As he stared at her, Vegeta felt a sensation that he thought he would never experience again. During his time on Namek he had been subjected to the nearly overwhelming power of creation. This woman emanated the same timeless wisdom that Guru had, but under the guise of a much younger woman.

Her vibrant eyes locked with his and Vegeta struggled to breathe. The aura that she exuded was so much greater than Guru's that Vegeta had to physically resist the urge to kneel before her. Zarbon had stepped back, standing behind her and Vegeta could see the sweat that pored off his brow. The emerald man visibly shook as he clasped the handle of the door tightly to remain upright.

"Good day, M'Lord. My name is Princess Aigneis Aingeal." Her dulcet tones rang through the room like a bevy of bells. The sheer amount of power in her voice alone sent chills down the spines of both men. Vegeta could not look away from the creature in front of him. She was incredibly delicate, as if she would shatter in the wind, but he knew that he would never be able to defeat her. He knew that he should feel anger at that realization, but all he felt was quiet acceptance. Her power was not that of physical strength but something far more mystical. Ethereal was in fact the only word that he could find to describe her. She was of no threat to him and oddly he felt more at peace in front of her than he had in the many months since his reign.

"Good day, Princess Aigneis." Vegeta fought to remember his princely training and the maiden bequeathed him with a small smile for his efforts. He twisted her name horribly, but it was unlike any he had ever heard before in the hundreds of languages he had been subjected too.

"You may call me Angel. I will be your guide here." She spoke softly, like the tinkling of water over smooth river rocks. Vegeta's brow creased subtly at the use of the word guide instead of host, but he dismissed it as a misinterpretation of language.

"Thank you, that is most kind of you." Vegeta felt a small sense of panic as he listened to himself. He didn't speak with his normal brusqueness, instead he sounded almost foppish to his own ears. Never before in his life had anyone ever intimidated him into good behavior. He looked deeply into her eyes and slowly he realized that it wasn't fear that curbed his tongue, but respect. He found that he didn't want to snarl and growl at her as was his way. Her very presence dissuaded such course mannerisms.

"I am here to inform you that my family will be holding a feast in the great hall this evening to welcome you to our home. Sadly my parents will not be able to join us for the course of the peaceful negotiations. I will stand in their stead and mediate, if that is acceptable to you Emperor." She spread her hands out gently from her waist, palm up and bowed her head in respect to Vegeta. With the absence of her enchanting eyes, Vegeta found it easier to breathe and more importantly to think.

"Of course, I would be honored to have your wisdom at the table."

She nodded her head subtly, clasping her hands in front of her once again. "Thank you for you praise M'lord. We will begin the conference tomorrow morning." She took a step back to exit the room, but Vegeta quick inhalation of breath stopped her.

He took an aggressive step forward, his face clouded with impatience. "I want to start now. It is barely mid day." He growled and immediately he felt the silent censure in the room. It didn't necessarily emanate from the celestial creature in front of him, but from the very atmosphere. The aura of the room shifted from dulcet white to churning gray.

He glanced around him before meeting the gaze of the princess. Her face remained unchanged. Her features were still calmly accepting and a guilty flush found its way to Vegeta's cheeks.

"I understand your eagerness to begin M'lord. However, some of the diplomats are weary from their journey and my family feels that a comfortable meal would be more beneficial in the long run to your negotiations. It is best to get to know your opponents before engaging them. Don't you agree?" Her eyes held a twinkle of amusement and Vegeta nodded sheepishly. Though he suspected she had never had an opponent in her entire life, she chose to speak to him in terms that he understood.

"Excellent. I will see you at moonrise for the evening meal." She curtseyed elegantly in front of Vegeta, an action that made him distinctly uncomfortable and demurely exited the room.

Zarbon closed the door behind her and leaned against the cool wood frame. He brushed the sweat from his brow, taking great gulping breaths.

"Wow." Was all he said and Vegeta nodded in agreement.

"What the hell was she?" Zarbon pushed off from the door and moved over to the case of clothes that Vegeta had packed. He began to pull out the garments, hanging them in the nearby wardrobe, taking special care of the dress uniform that Vegeta would wear that evening.

"Otherworldly." Was Vegeta's muttered response and he stepped towards the open balcony doors.

"Yah. Well with her around these talks should go off without a hitch. It's almost better than having Bulma here."

Vegeta ignored the other man and instead leaned his hip on the railing while he looked out over the landscape. Though the palace was huge it had no cultivated gardens. Instead a wild forest crept up to the borders of the castle, knocking for entrance. The wood that he surveyed was thick with ancient trees and the twilling of birds echoed throughout the wide expanse of the forest's embrace.

He gazed deeply into the shadows of the wood and as he lost himself to his thoughts he felt peace settle around him once again. Bulma would love it here he thought with certainty. He could almost see her running barefoot across the thick carpet of moss, her laughter mingling with the songs of the birds.

The darkness that crept through him since he left Namek came to a standstill and he could feel the beginnings of a retreat. Before Vegeta's bewildered gaze an impossibly large white stag with golden horns stepped out of the forest, its gentle blue eyes alighting on Vegeta. The sun shone down through the leaves, dappling his fur in a myriad of golden color and white light.

Vegeta could not break his gaze away and the hypnotic pattern of light drew him deeper into a waking dream as the events of his life unfolded before him. He saw the horrors that he endured as a child and the atrocities that he committed as an adult, but all of that was overridden by Bulma's presence. He saw her laughing blue eyes reflected in the deer's and the shimmer of her beautiful aura in the light of it's horns.

On Namek he had come to the dramatic realization that he loved the small creature that he called mate. A secret that he held closely to his heart, not even confessing to her the deep amount of caring he held for her, for fear of anyone seeing the amount of emotion he was capable of beholding. He saw his ascension for the first time through the eyes of the stag. He saw the golden dragon spring forward, sharing his power and strength with a mortal man, casting him into the image of a shining god. The power of love had been the catalyst for the explosion of change to occur.

Bulma had been the key. Without her by his side he would no longer be able to become Legendary. That was his greatest fear. He would be powerless again. He would be nothing but a broken puppet awaiting the next master to come along and sheath its claws in him. He could not allow that to happen. He must never allow Bulma to leave him.

The love that awakened inside of him began to twist and rot. The darkness swelled, reclaiming its old territory through a newly opened door. Vegeta couldn't accept that he was capable of feeling love. More accurately, he didn't feel that he had the right to be blessed with such an emotion. So instead of admitting to himself that love had been the key, he convinced himself that it was actually Bulma. The darkness that had resided inside of him for so long only needed one little nagging doubt to pounce on. It cultivated the shadow in his mind, sending small tendrils of distrust to entrench themselves in his newly reborn soul.

The light shimmered in the creature's horns and the darkness hunched down afraid of being sighted by its mortal enemy. Vegeta felt a pricking in the back of his mind. As if the light was trying to show him something. A different path for him to tread. A way to change his fate.

Vegeta peered closer at the mythical creature. The dawning of understand was right there, almost in his grasp. The answer to everything he ever wanted to know. The answer to his power. He leaned further out over the rail, only to be brought up short by Zarbon's call.

"M'lord, it is time for you to get ready."

Vegeta blinked and looked around him. The stag, if it had ever existed had disappeared and the pale curve of the full moon began to peek above the horizon. Many hours had passed and Vegeta frowned at the loss of time. He cast one last disdainful sneer at the forest below him and turned on his heel to begin dressing.

Vegeta entered the great dinning hall through a set of tall wooden doors that were intricately carved. He stepped forward on the russet carpet that led into an expansive room with vaulted ceilings. It had a medieval air and Vegeta instantly drew his shoulders back into a princely posture.

Wooden beams braced the ceiling leading down to paneled walls that were decorated with rich tapestries. The patterns on the cloth told the story of two men, one crowned in a circlet of leaves and the other in thorns. Both fought each other for the throne and the love of a fair maiden. One would die only to be reborn to defeat the other in an endless circle of life and death. Rebirth and renewal.

On either side of the room stood a long row of banquet tables and the dozens of eyes watched him silently as he stepped forward. At the end of the long rug stood a delicate throne of shining moonstone where Princess Aigneis Aingeal sat patiently awaiting his approach. Vegeta ignored the gawking fools that stared at him and proudly sauntered up to her throne.

He bowed regally before her. Something he had rarely practiced in all of his years. She dipped her head in approval and waved her hand to towards an empty seat to her left.

"Please join me M'lord." Again her tone struck a cord deep inside of him. Though the words were quietly uttered they reverberated clearly throughout the room.

He graciously took his seat and as if by royal command, petitioners lined up in front of him. They introduced themselves and the planet they represented. By the third introduction, Vegeta couldn't stop the feral snarl that curled on his cruel lips.

An old man stood in front of him and he stuttered to a halt at Vegeta's growl.

"Where is your king?" Vegeta demanded angrily.

A bead of sweat rolled of his brow and he gulped loudly. "Given your illustrious reputation M'lord, he thought it better that he send his humble servant in his place. It is an offer of respect to your great power." The man fought the urge to step back, but he visibly shook under Vegeta's hateful gaze.

"It is an insult." Vegeta sneered. He looked at the rest of the crowd, examining their nervous faces.

"Were none of your leaders brave enough to show themselves at this meeting." Vegeta demanded with barely suppressed rage.

A courageous man stepped forward, meeting Vegeta's hard gaze unflinchingly. "Emperor, our leaders have every intention of participating in the meeting via vid screens. However, they felt that presenting themselves to you in person would be a grave error. With one foul swoop you could wipe out all the ruling households of those who oppose you. Such a risk could not be taken."

Vegeta rose from his chair, ignoring the swamping feeling of calmness that bore down on him from the Princess. "I should blast you all right now for you insult to my honor. I came here in the name of peace and you mock me with your words. You are no better than the ignoble swine that I thought you to be." Vegeta swept forward towards the door, people dodging out of his way as quickly as possible. He felt the fury inside of him rising to the surface, but the something held him back. Silken bonds that caged the beast that raged inside of him, thirsting for blood.

The miscreants who dared to revolt against him, didn't even have the guts to face him. He was the Emperor of the Universe and he had roused himself from his duties to attend this farce of meeting. They should be honored to be in the shadow of his greatness, but instead they cowered like whipped dogs. How dare they insinuate that they were more important than he. That he was the one who had to make the sacrifice of time and venture to this forgotten world, while they sat comfortably on their stolen thrones. They would pay in blood for their transgressions.

He stomped into his quarters, drawing to an abrupt halt when he found the Princess in the center of his room. As she turned to face him, he looked back over his shoulder, certain that he had left her back in the great hall still perched on her throne. He steeled himself against her power, calling forth the anger that sustained him most of his life. He slammed the door shut behind him, nearly wincing as the crash disrupted the serenity of the palace.

"What do you want, woman?" He growled, his onyx eyes simmering with a combination of hate and anger. He had been made a fool of by those who dared to oppose him. Because of Bulma's meddling he had agreed to participate in this farce with the hopes of disrupting Frieza's bloody prophecy. Vegeta didn't want to be a tyrant, but he couldn't help to think that was the only method that would regain control of his empire. Perhaps Frieza hadn't been so wrong when it came to his diplomatic relations. Yes, he was a bastard. Yes, he destroyed the lives of everyone around him, but at least he brought law to the unruly and trade to the poor. He single handedly ruled a vast empire and Vegeta couldn't even put it back together after his demise. Pathetic.

"Emperor." The Princess began as she stepped forward. Vegeta growled and turned away from her, resisting the call of tranquility that engulfed him.

"Prince Vegeta." She whispered in his ear. He tensed when he realized she had crept up behind him without him knowing it. She stepped to his side, placing a dainty, white hand on his forearm. That breathy title reminded him of who he was, beneath it all. For months now he had been referred to as M'lord or Emperor, his former title seemly forgotten. His very identity forgotten. But her words brought it all back to him. He was the crown Prince of Vegeta-sei. His entire life he had fought for the very position he now awkwardly stood in. He had been destined to rule a people that were now only ghosts in his mind. It was his duty to make them proud. He had avenged them, now it was time to make the Saiyan name great once again.

She moved to stand in front of him, peering up into his shadowed eyes. She placed both her hands on his arms now and he could feel the jolt of power pulsating from her. Standing this close to her he could not stop the clear, pure tide that washed over him, sweeping away all of his bitterness and hate, leaving him open to reasonable suggestion.

"I know you feel insulted." Vegeta snorted at her words and she smile subtly, nearly blinding him with the glow of goodness that emanated from her. "And you should be, but perhaps you should feel amused as well." Vegeta cocked an eyebrow at her and she gave him a half shrug.

"They fear you Prince Vegeta. More accurately, they are terrified of you. You are a very powerful man." Vegeta felt a spark of arrogant pride at her words. He was powerful. He had defeated Frieza in a battle to the death. They should fear him.

"You can't blame them for not wanting to be in the same room with you." Vegeta wanted to shrug her off, but something held him still.

"Yes I can." He snarled down into her upturned face. "They have disrespected me and I will punish them for it." At his words he felt a stab of pain in his chest. The room around him expanded like shocked breath at his words. The air rippled before it contracted, nearly suffocating him with its weight.

"That's the last thing you want to do Prince Vegeta." The Princess' eyes glowed with an inner light and she pulled him closer to her. She placed her soft hands on his cheeks, tilting his face down to her. Normally, Vegeta would never allow someone to put their hands on him so familiarly, but he couldn't resist. He felt distant all of the sudden, like he was observing the scene and not participating in it. A surreal air surrounded him and his thoughts took on the same floating quality as they did while he gazed at the white stag.

"What is the one thing that you fear most?" He could have sworn that her mouth did not move, but he could hear the words nonetheless.

"I…" He began, unable to say the words out loud.

"Look deep into your heart, my prince." Her words whispered through is mind, compelling him to answer truthfully.

"Losing Bulma." He didn't think that he said the words, but she heard him and a comforting warmth, unlike he had ever felt before settled around him. He glanced over her shoulder and saw pearly butterfly wings lined in sparkling silver extend from the Princess' back. He watched in awe as they wrapped around him, encasing them both in an embrace. He blinked and the image was gone, but her eyes still glowed up at him.

"How will you lose her?" She questioned with the utmost gentleness.

Vegeta's brow creased and he clenched his eyes shut. A vision of Frieza's gaping maw rose up and images of his bloody, painful past raced through his mind, but the ache wasn't as sharp, it was dulled by Angel's presence.

"By becoming him." Vegeta whispered his head lowering in shame until his forehead rested against hers. Her hands left his cheeks, delving into his upswept hair. Her soft lips replaced her forehead as she pressed a reassuring kiss to his brow. He felt the sensation of peace skitter through him, dousing the fires of hate that had brewed inside of him since he could remember.

Suddenly her presence was gone and he was left bereft. He lifted his head and opened his eyes, meeting her gaze across the room. She stood by the door, her hand poised on the handle. She gifted him with a soft smile and he thought he saw the faintest outline of wings again.

"The conference will begin tomorrow at nine am. May I inform the others that they will have the honor of your presence?"

They stared at each for long minutes, time ticking by. Vegeta acquiesced with a short nod and the Princess smiled brilliantly at him, taking his breath away. She departed from the room, taking with her the glow of her light, but leaving the feeling of hope and contentment that settled in Vegeta's breast.

Translations Gaelic to English

Folaithe Ceo = Hidden Mist

Argneis Aingeal = Pure Angel

Ceansaigh = Pacify

The Tuatha De Danann are the people of the Goddess Danu or commonly referred to as fairy folk.


	7. Intrigue and Ardency

Disclaimer:  Same shit, different day.  Don't own it.

Chapter Seven

Intrigue and Ardency

Bulma squinted her eyes, bringing the writing on the document she was holding into focus.  She grimaced and with a huff she dropped the file on her desk.  She pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut to relieve the steady ache that was growing behind her sockets.

She was getting old.  She had spent too many hours, for too many years, staring at black type on white paper, straining her eyes irreparably.  She was going to need glasses soon, she thought with a large dose of self disgust.  Great, I'm sure Vegeta will love that.

A small sound off to the side caused her to crack her eyes open to a narrow slit.  Glittering blue slid to the left, latching onto the black haired man who stood stoically against the far wall, well out of her way.  Her full lips thinned with annoyance and she turned her back on Raditz, trying to ignore is oppressive presence. 

Since Vegeta had left, she had been under constant surveillance.  Every conversation she had was carefully monitored and her every action was observed.  The only time she got any peace and quiet was in her room, but even then they made absolutely sure that she didn't have a communication device.  Her correspondence was even occasionally riffled through.

She turned towards the door as Jace entered the room with his usual flurry of motion, his lab coat askew and his chocolate hair mussed.  The smile that threatened to tug at the corner of her lips dimmed when she saw him approach with a slight limp.  Because of his relationship with her, he had been made a target of Frieza's cruelty and she would never be able to forget that.

When Bulma had refused to reveal the whereabouts of the planet Namek, Frieza had turned his reptilian gaze onto the one other person who was sure to know, her trusted assistant, Jace.  He had suffered terribly under the monster's scaly claw.  Frieza had no compunction about permanently scarring a man he had no intention of bedding and Bulma could still hear his pleading screams in her nightmares.

Jace had been loyal to her before, but now he was unswervingly so.  She made no comment on his new found fervor to serve her, but stood silently by, watching as he struggled under the weight of his coerced betrayal of her.  She knew that no amount of condoling words from her would resolve the self imposed guilt he felt for disclosing the information about the Dragon Balls to Frieza.  She only hoped that with time his emotional distress would heal itself.

As he crossed the room, her eyes fell on the red file he was carrying.  She darted a calculating glance at Raditz, but he was watching with bored indifference.  Although, Vegeta had taken steps to limit her ability to oversee the rescue mission and denied her the right to retrieve Trunks on her own, her mate had severely underestimated her espionage skills.  She had been playing the game of court intrigue longer than he and with much more grace than he ever could.

Under Raditz's very nose, she continued to glean as much information as she could on Trunk's situation and she observed Vegeta's men very closely as they crossed over the borders into the Badlands.

"There have been some problems with the Icarus project"

"Oh?"  Bulma grabbed the file from Jace's hands and flipped it open looking for key words peppered though the seemingly innocuous report.  _Unstable conditions, unsuccessful results, limited resources…termination._

"This was anticipated.  We will just have to compensate and try to resolve the issue through other means."  She tossed the file on her desk with practiced nonchalance, lending more credence to the fact that the file should in no way interest Raditz.

"It's just such a disappointment."  Jace sighed deeply while shrugging his shoulders, his own actions were meant to be inoffensive and unperturbed.  They were doing nothing more than discussing a failed experiment, something that was of absolutely no interest to the observing Saiyan.

Bulma circled around her desk, picking up another file and opening it in front of her.  Inconspicuously, she tucked the red file under the open one, further hiding it from Raditz's piercing gaze.

"It's to be expected Jace.  No experiment ever works perfectly the first time."  She intoned with supercilious aplomb.

"I know, you're right.  I assume that you have an alternative."  Jace looked at her with his puppy dog, brown eyes and any indecision she may have felt about enacting a plan to free herself from the watchful eyes of the Saiyans melted away.

"Of course, I always do."  She smiled brightly up at Jace.  "After all, I am a genius."

He smiled back and turned to walk out of the room.  She picked up her pen to sign off on some more paperwork when she called out to him, pretending to have just remembered something.

"Oh Jace."  He turned to face her expectantly.

"I was rummaging through my closet this morning and I am sad to say that I do not have the clothing benefiting a queen.  Once Vegeta returns victorious from the conference and Trunks is retrieved, the court will be bursting with people.  I am in need of a whole new wardrobe.  Be a dear and have the seamstress fetched for some fittings tomorrow morning."  She smiled briefly up at him before returning to her work.

He nodded his head, jotting some notes on his pad.  "It will be done."  He walked out of the room, knowing full well that his boss was already scheming against her guards.

The next day Raditz returned from his training session to find Bulma's room bustling with activity.  Servants scuttled in and out, carrying bolts of materials and half sown dresses.  He stepped cautiously inside of the room, quickly locating Nappa who huddled in a corner, his eyes bulging with fear.  The man had faced down entire squads of soldiers, but the sight of his queen amidst so much ribbon and lace turned his blood cold.  With a short nod, Nappa strode out the room, happily leaving Raditz to deal with confusion.

Bulma's brow furled as she shifted from one foot to the other anxiously.  She had sent for Delia an hour ago and she still hadn't made an appearance.  She had wanted to speak to her friend before Raditz showed up, but now it was too late.  It would have been easier to accomplish her task under the nose of the much duller witted Saiyan, but unfortunately Raditz would require much more finesse.

She turned to see Delia finally darting into the room.  She didn't miss the quick look she shot Raditz before glancing away in shame and she certainly didn't miss the way Raditz's eyes followed Delia's every move.  Great.

She turned to the seamstress, using her most aristocratic voice to address the woman.  "Madame Corselle.  Have you completed some of the gowns yet?  I would like to try them on."

"Yes, yes of course."  The woman rushed over with a hideous pink confection, loaded with lace and frills.

Bulma gathered up the gown and turned towards her bathroom, motioning for Delia to follow.  She halted abruptly when Raditz appeared in her path.

"Excuse me.  You are in our way."  She raised her chin a notch, letting him know how tired she was of his constant intrusion.

"I can't allow you to enter the room with Delia.  You may go alone."  Raditz showed no sign that his Queen's ire affected him in any way.  Though he respected Bulma, he feared Vegeta more.

Bulma cocked an imperial brow at him.  "Oh.  And how do you suggest I lace myself up, telekinesis?"

Raditz crossed his arms and peered down at her, unaffected by her hauteur.  Bulma's mouth tightened with anger and she reached up to pull the edge of her dressing gown off her shoulder, revealing a good deal of skin.  Raditz cheeks heated but he didn't give ground.

"Well I suppose I could always strip right here.  After all, I'm sure that Vegeta wouldn't mind if you saw me naked."

Raditz eyes narrowed with consternation and Bulma pressed her point home.

"Not to mention all the male servants."

Bulma heard a low growl and she knew that he was expressing his displeasure at the situation.  He turned on his heel, opening the door and glancing inside before stepping aside to let the women enter.  Bulma swept by him with her nose high in the air with Delia close on her heels.

Bulma went to shut the door soundly behind her, but it was stopped by a forceful hand.

"The door stays open.  I will stand in front of it, with my back turned.  No one will see you."  Raditz towered over her, using his greater height to his advantage.  His black eyes burned with rage at her manipulations.

"Raditz you are just being unreasonable.  I have to get dressed and I'm not going to do so in the open.  I am doing this to please Vegeta.  I'm sure that he doesn't want his queen to run around in rags and work stained clothing."  She sighed with exasperation, thoroughly disgusted with the man in front of her.

"More than likely you are doing it to punish him.  When a female can't understand a man's reasoning she will strike out at him the only way she can.  The best way is usually through his coffers."  Raditz sneered with manly aggression.  He made a grab for an expensive silk dress that a servant was walking by with, making the women gasp at his rough handling of the delicate fabric.  He waved it in their faces, continuing his tirade.

"What is all this shit?  Nothing but useless fluff that has no purpose other than pissing off any male who tries to get it off you.  Your time and Vegeta's credits would be better suited at serving the needs of the empire, not to buy you another pair of shoes."

The women stared up at him like he had uttered the most unholy of blasphemies and he heard a derisive snort behind him.  He glanced back to see Madam Corselle reach around to take back the dress he had grabbed, clucking under her breath at the unruly male who had interrupted her feminine court.

"The more exquisitely dressed a woman, the happier everyone is around her."  The seamstress groused and Raditz rolled his eyes.

"Bullshit."

Madam Corselle scowled at him with impatience.  "No man wants to see his woman in rags and beautiful clothing makes a woman feel pretty.  If a woman doesn't feel pretty, then she doesn't feel sexy and if she doesn't feel sexy then all that you men are going to feel is lonely."  Her voice dropped into knowing octave before continuing.  "And when you feel lonely, you turn into asses."  She turned to walk away without another word, her full skirts twitching gracefully.

Radtiz snorted and he glanced over to see an amused smile grace Delia's lips.  He felt something bright and glorious burst to life in his chest and for the first time in weeks he felt like smiling also.  That same emotion quickly died when he saw her hide that smile behind her hand and glance away from him in shame.  A pink blush crept up her cheeks and he knew that she was regretting her brief slip.  He felt the old rage surge to the surface and his jaw clenched.

"Raditz, stop being so grouchy and let me get dressed."  Bulma shook her head at him and attempted to shut the door a second time.

"I said no."  He snapped and Bulma's face flushed with instant anger at his sharp reply.  Delia, seeing her lady's rising agitation and Raditz's stubbornness, decided to step in.  She knew that Bulma was up to something.  She had been immersed in court life long enough to know that this was a ruse, but she had made her decision to serve Bulma loyally and she was going to do just that.  She stepped around her lady, inserting herself between the two combatants.  Bulma automatically stepped back, watching with bated breath as Delia took control of the situation.

Delia placed a dainty, gold dusted hand on Raditz breastplate, shocking them both.  She hadn't deigned to touch him since they had returned to Capital World.  She hadn't dared.  The hurt between them both was too deep.  Her heart ached with the need to run to him and throw her arms around him, but she was afraid that he would reject her.  He hadn't so much as looked at her and it felt like it was ripping her apart.

Raditz inhaled sharply at her action, instantly flooding his senses with her flowery scent.  She smelled exactly how he remembered her, but with a dash more salt.  He looked deeply into her eyes and he could see the small red lines were she had strained them from constant crying.  He felt something shift deep inside of him and he wanted to kiss the sadness from her eyes.

"Please Raditz.  I know you serve Vegeta, but you must understand that Bulma is queen now.  She is not some lab tech that Vegeta has ordered you to guard.  She is his chosen mate and the second most powerful person in the universe by right of rule.  You can not ask the queen of the universe to undress in a room full of people.  Vegeta would have your head and I don't want anything to happen to you."  She meant what she said.  She couldn't bear it if something happened to Raditz.

Her lavender eyes shined brightly and she dared to meet his dark gaze for a split second before looking away once again.

"We will crack the door and you can stand outside."  She reasoned, turning her head aside and regretfully withdrawing her hand.  Raditz felt its loss intimately and his gut clenched.  How had it come to pass that he and this beautiful creature had turned away from each other?  How was it that he couldn't hold her in his arms like he wanted to?  Cajoled by her soft words, he nodded while stepping back, allowing her to close the door, thus shutting him out.  Again.

Delia left the door open a crack and turned back to her queen.  Bulma was upset that the door was still open, knowing that Saiyan hearing was incredibly keen, yet she knew that this was the best she was going to get.  Delia's sad eyes locked with hers and she felt her own heart break at the sight.  She knew what it was to be estranged from the one you loved.  Wordlessly, she held out her arms and Delia flew to her.  The two women wrapped their arms around each other, taking comfort from the only place they could find it.

Bulma pulled free after a few moments, time and worry pressing her to hurry.  She shed her clothes and turned back to Delia rustling the taffeta fabric of the salmon monstrosity as loudly as she could while speaking to Delia in a hushed whisper.

"Vegeta's men failed.  I have to find Trunks, but I can't escape by myself."  She paused a moment to let the words sink in.  Delia's eyes locked with hers and she gave a small imperceptible nod.

"I need you to prep a ship for me to leave tonight at midnight.  Can you do that?"  Delia stood in stunned silence, her heart beat thudding in her ears.  So that was what all this was about.  All this pomp and circumstance, all this commotion.  It was merely a ruse to get her alone with Bulma so she could ask her this startling question.  Such a request could not be left on paper, nor asked in coded words, but face to face, clearly and concisely where no mistake in interpretation could be made.  It seemed too much and yet, not enough.  There should be more fanfare present when asking someone to sacrifice their life for a cause.  At least, there should be flowers.

The door slammed open and Raditz towered in the portal intimidating.  Both women jumped apart and Bulma grasped the dress to her front.  Delia looked guiltily at the floor, desperately avoiding Raditz's accusing glare.

"What are you talking about in here?  You don't need to speak to get dressed."  He snarled threateningly and Delia's body shuddered with visible strain while Bulma fell back on her most tried and true method of distraction.

"What the fuck Raditz!"  She snapped in a very unqueen like manner.  "Are you trying to scare the shit out of us?  Of course we are going to talk.  We're women!  That's all we do, didn't you know?"

Raditz ignored her and instead turned his piercing raven gaze on Delia.  "What were you talking about Delia?"  He growled softly, directing his question only to her.  Delia swallowed hard, her hands knitted tightly in front of her.  She hazarded a quick glance up, but her eyes dropped away quickly.

"I don't feel so good."  She muttered and hurriedly pushed past Raditz, clasping her hand to her mouth as if to staunch the flow of something vile from her stomach.  He watched her go, a suspicious frown on his face.  Bulma raced to redirect his attention, while at the same time taking the opportunity to address something that had been wearing on her mind for some time.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself."  She hissed with disgust.  He turned his heavy gaze back to her, blinking in confusion.

"Why is that?"  He sneered, certain that the two females were trying to trick him in some way.

"You have that poor girl in knots.  Giving her the cold shoulder, treating her like she is worse than garbage.  Don't you know how much she loves you?  And now you go and yell at her.  Why don't you just slap her around while you are at it?"  Bulma seethed.  She had watched for weeks, while the two had skirted around each other.  Delia would visibly wilt under the fiery glare of the Saiyan.  They had so much unspoken emotion between the two of them that you could poke it with a stick.

Raditz's heart seized at Bulma's words.  Delia loved him?  How could she after everything she had been through?  After everything she had put him through.  He didn't believe it, he couldn't afford too.  She had chosen her path.  She hadn't trusted him with the truth of her child and he couldn't trust her with the validity of her heart.  She had only been using him as an amusement while she twisted the knife in his Prince's back.  She was no better than garbage.

"Better yet.  I have seen the way you look at her Raditz.  Why don't you follow her back to her rooms one night?  You can act on all those dirty little thoughts that are roving around in your head."  Bulma's eyes narrowed into malicious slits, her lips curling back into a disgusted sneer.  "Right in front of her son."

Raditz snarled viciously, advancing a step forward before he brought himself up abruptly.  He glared down at his queen, his stomach churning madly.  Unknowingly, or perhaps very intuitively, Bulma had hit upon the very darkest part of him.  He wanted to punish Delia for her sins against him, but at the same time he wanted her beneath him, moaning his name in ecstasy. 

The darkness inside of him, urged him to behave like the monster that he knew he was.  While purging that forsaken planet where he had gotten captured on, he had made his foul realizations about the grief of unwilling victims.  Before then, he would have never given a second thought to storming into Delia's room and taking what he wanted, whether or not Jarrell was present.  Whether or not Delia wanted it.  Better yet, he would have killed the child for distracting what should be his concubine from her duty.  Pleasuring him.  He clenched his eyes shut as the image of bloodshed and lust burned itself into his mind.  He had sworn that he would never hurt another woman, but Delia brought that monster back to the surface in full fury and it was all he could do to restrain himself.

Bulma's words wounded him deeply and he couldn't possibly abhor himself more than he did at that moment.  Until then, he hadn't realized how close he was to acting out as she described.  His desire and loathing were uniting together against him nearly overpowering his reasoning.  His eyes snapped open and he hissed down at Bulma.

"It's none of your business woman."

"I'm not just any woman, Raditz.  I'm your queen."  Raditz's blood ran cold and his face became remote at her censure.  Bulma's own features softened as she gazed up at the hard warrior.  "When are you going to forgive her?"  She asked.

"Never!"  He growled.  "She betrayed my prince."

Bulma shook her head slowly.  "Don't you mean she betrayed you?"  She asked gently.

Raditz eyes widened and he reared back as if she had slapped him.  For so long he had refused to see the truth of his feelings.  He felt deeply betrayed, not on behalf of his prince, but as a man.  She had taken his love and thrown it back into his face like it was worthless.  Not worth her time or her trust.

"You can't continue to punish her."  Bulma rested her hand on his arm, trying to comfort him in some small way.

"Yes I can."  Raditz shook her off like an annoying gnat.  His anger at his lover was seemingly without end.  He could not find forgiveness in his heart, because he truly did not understand her disloyalty.  He had spent his entire life, steeped in the codes of honor and fealty.  Her treason to him was a blow to the heart.

Bulma's sad eyes glowed up at him and he swallowed hard.  "She endured so much under Frieza's rule.  She suffered so her son wouldn't have too.  You were here when Vegeta was just a boy.  Would you wish that on another child?"

Raditz eyes slid away, unwilling to see the pain that flickered in his queen's eyes, nor did he want her to see the memories in his.

"To save her child she would have done anything.  She was alone and scared.  Frieza's court was a treacherous place and you never knew who you could trust, even those who claimed to be your friend.  She did not betray you Raditz.  She was merely trying to save her son.  You would have done no less for Vegeta."

Bulma tried to reach out her hand to him, but he withdrew again.  She shook her head sadly, her heart breaking with a combination of her own despair and that of her friends.  The damage that Frieza had caused to everyone around him lingered even after his death.  He was inescapable.  He still haunted every soul that he had touched during his wicked reign.

Raditz would have to find some way to resolve his issues with Delia soon or else he would do something that he would truly regret for the rest of his life.  Without responding to Bulma he stepped back, closing the door as he did so.  He had no words to express the agony that he felt in the depths of his cold heart.  Bulma was right.  He could not continue down this dark path.  He needed to talk to Delia and he planned to do so first thing in the morning.  He turned his longing gaze to the exit where Delia had fled taking with her the light that illuminated his shadowy soul.

Delia burst into her room, slamming the door behind her.  She barely made it to the vanity, before collapsing.  She sank down onto the seat, laying her head on the cool wood table in front of her.  She fought to keep her roiling stomach from empting all over the floor.  She breathed deeply, trying to calm her panicked senses. 

How could she not help Bulma?  She had done so much for Delia, saved her from Vegeta and given her and her son a place here in the palace.  No longer did she have to serve as a slave in some man's bed, but she had a respectable status as the queen's lady in waiting.  But now she asked Delia to sacrifice everything.  To help her find her son.  But at what cost? 

If Vegeta found out, he would certainly kill her.  Raditz would more than likely murder her within hours of Bulma's escape, knowing that she would be the one to blame.  What would happen to Jarrell then?  With both parents dead, he would be helpless.  Who would take care of him?  Certainly no one at the court.  He would be left to survive on his own.  Abandoned and alone.

She sobbed deeply and grabbed up a handkerchief.  She heard a small noise behind her and turned around, gasping at the sight.  Jarrell stood in the doorway that separated their rooms.  He rubbed his eyes tiredly and it was obvious that she had awoken him from a nap.

She bolted up from her chair and over to her son, dropping down on her knees to draw even with him.  She reached up to wipe the blood that dribbled onto his chin from a cut on his lip.  Anger washed through her in black, terrible waves.  Who had dared to strike her child?  She would kill them.

"Who did this to you?  How did this happen?  Tell me so I can have them punished."  She demanded angrily.

He squirmed away, his brow furling in embarrassment.  "Mama, stop it."

She ignored him, continuing her interrogation.  "Who did this?  How did this happen?"  She repeated forcefully.

"I was training mama?"  He sighed with childish exasperation, rolling his eyes at her.

"Training?  Training for what?"  She asked in astonishment.  Her son had no reason to be training.  He was the son of a servant, not a soldier.

"Training to be a warrior."  He boasted proudly and she felt something flutter in her stomach.

"Nonsense.  You are too young to be fighting."  As far as she was concerned, he would never be a warrior.  She did not want him going off to some distant war to fight a faceless enemy.  He would stay here, by her side, where he belonged.

"Raditz says that you are never too young to learn how to protect yourself and your family."  He repeated Raditz's words like they were a solemn oath and Delia's heart seized.  Raditz was teaching her son how to fight?  For what purpose, for what reason?  Why would he take time out from his busy schedule to train a child.  Her child, most especially.  Why would Raditz spend time with him?  It made no sense to her.

"You are just a child.  You don't need to know how to fight.  You have me to protect you."  A look of adult like sullenness formed on Jarrell's thin features as he gazed into his mother's eyes.

"Bad things happen to kids too mama.  No matter what their parents try to do to stop it."  His voice rang with a certainness that made her blood run cold.

Her hand reflexively clutched the handkerchief.  Her mouth became dry and her throat closed up.  What had happened to her baby when she wasn't there to protect him?

"Jarrell I…"  She struggled for the words, but nothing came to mind to comfort him, to soothe away the pain, she knew he must feel.  "I did my best."

He shuffled his feet, looking away while gently placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I know mama."  His words were small and sad, just like him.  Her heart died and cried out in pain.  No.  Not her baby.  She reached out, pulling him into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around him and clenching her hands into the back of his shirt.

"I'm so sorry, Jarrell.  I'm so sorry."  She pleaded into his hair, tears pouring down her cheeks, drenching his golden locks.

"Don't worry mama.  Raditz is teaching me how to be big and strong, so no one will ever hurt you or me again."  She sobbed deeply.  What did he know?  What could he possibly know about what had happened to her?  He was so young.  Her baby and yet he was so old.  Too old in his eyes, too old in his heart and his mind.  She pulled away to look at him.

"I know, baby."  She heard the whisper of his words in her mind.  _Sometimes bad things happen to kids too._  She knew that if something were ever to happen to her that Raditz would take care of Jarrell.  She knew it, deep down inside, where her love for him still grew.  His taking the time to train Jarrell to protect himself was proof of that.  The glow that appeared in Jarrell's eyes when he spoke of Raditz made her heart do a little flip.  He had found the father that he had been missing for so long, even if neither of them knew it yet.  Raditz would never blame an innocent child for the actions of his mother.  No matter what she did or how she betrayed him.  He would never do anything to harm her baby.

She also knew by looking at her son's aged eyes that she couldn't stand by and let another boy suffer under the hands of some villain.  She had to do what she could to help Trunks.  If she stayed here, she would surely die before the dawn broke the horizon.  Even if she did nothing to help Bulma to leave, Raditz would still blame her.   Her only chance lay in escaping with Bulma and aiding her queen in any way that she could.  Perhaps, when they returned, Bulma would find a way to pardon her of her crimes.  At the very least, she could trust Bulma to care for Jarrell if something were to happen to her.

She placed a gentle hand on Jarrell's arm, looking deeply into his eyes.  "You know that no matter what happens that I love you very much."  He looked at her awkwardly, fear flashing in his eyes at her solemn tone.

"I know mama.  I love you too.  What is going on?"  Compared to the wisdom his voice had carried earlier, his words sounded frail and childish.  She resisted the urge to gather him into another hug, knowing how much he hated such displays.

"Nothing.  I just have to go away for a little while."

"Why?  What?  No.  You can't go."  His eyes grew wide with panic and she almost changed her mind, but the need to do the right thing urged her on.

"Its okay baby.  I'm just going to go for a little while

"Why?"  He wailed, pitching his voice into a low whine.

"Because, there is another little boy out there who has been separated from his mama and he needs my help."

Jarrell looked at her, his lower lip protruding in a pout, but she saw grudging understanding in his eyes.  He was going to grow up to be a good, strong man.  She saw it, deep inside of him.  No matter how much pain and hardship he had to endure, he would never turn into the monster that most did at having to survive this harsh life.  His compassionate heart would never be stifled.

"Just remember, if you have any problems, go to Raditz.  He will be there for you."  She said the words with such conviction that she believed them.  She could only hope that her intuition about her ex-lover was true.

Jarrell nodded mutely and then suddenly he threw himself into her arms, hugging her tightly.  She smiled softly, reveling in the feel of her son's arms around her, hugging her of his own free will.  She kissed the top of his head and held him tight.

After everyone left, Bulma sent a messenger to Delia's quarters to see if she was feeling better.  She closed the door and made her way over to her vanity, sinking down on her bench seat, gazing silently at her reflection.

She pulled the ice blue dressing robe from her shoulders, allowing it to pool on the seat and cascade to the floor like a frozen waterfall.  She examined her reflection.  Her teal hair fell across her alabaster shoulders and her flawless complexion was perfection itself, except for one small mark.

The red rune that grew above her heart had returned even after she had cut it away, a constant reminder of her death.  She traced the red weaving lines gently.  The rune struck some distant cord inside of her.  It seemed familiar to her, as though she had seen it long ago.  She tried to dust off the childhood memory but it remained obscured in the fog of time and she was left with a nagging feeling of unease.

She looked away, unable to bear the sight of her own face any longer.  From a drawer she drew out a sheaf of paper and a pen.  She straightened the pile in front of her, placing the pen to the paper and drawing it back again repeatedly.  She sucked in her lower lip between her teeth, uncertainty gnawing at her.

What would she say?  How could she possibly express all the regret she felt in one letter to Vegeta?  All the love that was bursting inside of her?

Absently, she reached over, picking up a white candle that sat in the upper corner of her vanity.  She rolled it across the desk top, digging into the wax with her thumbnail.

She loved Vegeta so much that she thought her heart would break from it.  Was it possible to feel so deeply for someone that you could die from it?  It certainly felt like she was dying, like someone was reaching inside her chest and squeezing her heart into a bloody pulp. 

As much as she cared for him, she couldn't just stand by and do nothing while Trunks was in danger.  She had known from the beginning that Vegeta's men would fail.  They marched across the borders of the Badlands in full force, arrogantly expecting everyone to part in their path.  Too many years of killing off helpless citizens of unprotected worlds had made them feel superior and they gave no consideration to the inhabitants of the lawless territories.  The residents of the Badlands were criminals, every single one of them.  Most were deserters from Frieza's own army and they knew how to defend themselves from the like.

She had hoped that Vegeta would see it her way, but he thought of her as a scientific and diplomatic genius.  He gave her no credit for having any strategic military sense.  If he had just listened to her, she could have told him that a smaller force would have been more successful.  All they would have had to do was slip over the border, locate Trunks and return.  Simple, neat and clean.

She knew that Vegeta wanted her here.  She was his ears and eyes in the universe.  Her spy network was a vast, well oiled machine.  You couldn't piss without her knowing about it and that was the way the both of them liked it.  She knew the right words to say to the warring factions to get them to sit up and listen, but she also knew that she was just a means to an end. 

Vegeta was more than capable of wrestling the universe back into submission.  He was born to rule and his instincts were never wrong.  He wanted her here, but he did not need her.  He could govern the universe easily, without her aid and more than likely he would enjoy it more.  With her underfoot he was forced to compromise when he would rather conquer.  He held himself in check to please her, changing himself into something that he wasn't.

He would be glad to see her go.  She was a thorn in her side.  A blade in his heart.

She looked down at the paper, tears spilling down her cheeks.  Stains appeared on the white parchment, smearing the ink of the words she had written unconsciously.  She blinked and more tears fell, blurring her vision.

She picked up a lighter from the vanity drawer and stood, taking up the single sheet of paper and candle with her.  She stepped out onto her stone balcony naked, knowing that no one could see her from this height.  She walked up to the broad, marbled railing, setting her items down gently.

She gazed up at the pregnant moon that hung in the blue black sky.  It shone down brightly upon her, wreathing her in its silvery light and her pale body glowed ethereally.  She inhaled deeply, scenting the night blooming flowers and drinking in the hum of power that always seemed to vibrate in the air when the moon was full.

She lit the candle, watching with fixed fascination as the orange flame danced in the evening breeze.  She carefully folded the paper into a square, holding it tightly against her heart, coalescing all of her rambling thoughts into one vibrant idea.  She covered the rune briefly, her lips silently mouthing the words on the paper.  She extended a shaky hand, her face illuminating as the paper caught fire and the hungry flames consumed the parchment.

She dropped the blazing paper onto the cool stone, silently watching as the lazy smoke wound its way up into the sky towards the heavenly moon, carrying her message to the Gods.

The words ran endlessly in her head, a mantra that she could not escape.  Her fate, her destiny, her destruction.

_Please forgive me for the promise that I have broken._

Her trance was interrupted by a sharp rap at the door.  She blinked and snuffed out the candle, turning away from the baleful eye of the moon.

She shrugged on her robe, before answering the door, smile gently at the court page who stood before her.

"Ms. Delia told me that she is feeling better now and will serve you as you desire, M'lady."

She nodded her head in acceptance and closed the door softly, leaning her forehead against the cool frame, while choking back her tears.


	8. Rise of the Dark Prince

Disclaimer: Don't own it

Love is like a unicorn.

Rare, perfect and pure,

But if no one believes in it, then it can't exist.

Tempest

Chapter Eight

The Rise of the Dark Prince

Zarbon felt his flesh tighten over his skeleton in a desperate attempt to crawl away. His throat closed up and he had to struggle to breathe around his thick tongue that was stuck to the roof of his dry mouth. Cold sweat ran in rivets down his back and under his arms, staining his fastidiously clean uniform.

"Are you sure?" He whispered and his stomach threatened to escape through his mouth as the messenger nodded a quick affirmative.

With a flick of his wrist he dismissed the man, but kept his back to the room. He lifted his amber eyes, observing the reflection that shone in the huge mirror that covered most of the back wall of the massive conference room. He could see the rigid back of his lord as he sat at the head of a rounded oak table, facing the rest of the delegations in the room.

Two hundred worlds were involved in the negations. Each world had sent two people and they all had their own servants. Approximately six hundred people were either sitting at the table or whisking in and out to fetch their masters food and drink. Next to each of the representatives were mounted video screens from which the monarchs participated in the talks from the safety of their thrones on their home worlds. An insulting bone of contention already with Vegeta.

They had been talking for days and as every hour passed Vegeta's patience was stretched like a heretic on The Rack, wound increasingly tighter until it threatened to snap. Zarbon was surprised that he had lasted this long, but he had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with the mysterious Princess Aigneis Aingeal. Zarbon's gaze slid to her reflection. She sat coolly to Vegeta's left, a marble statuette, breathtaking and majestic, barely moving throughout the entire proceedings. However whenever the arguments grew too heated she would shift subtly in her seat and the atmosphere would calm, her tranquility soothing balm on fiery tempers. Zarbon was impressed with her skill and he was thankful for her presence, but he had little hope that it would be helpful in the coming moments.

Zarbon looked away from the room, instead concentrating on his own jade reflection in the mirror. He gazed deeply into his eyes, looking for the shadows that he knew resided there but were momentarily obscured by an odd spark that had developed inside of him. He had done terrible things while serving Frieza. He had murdered friends, betrayed lovers and tortured innocents. He had been subjected to his own horrors as well. Unlike the other unwilling victims in Frieza's court, he had not lain prone under the reptile while he took his pleasure, but participated in the bed sport. Every drop of pleasure that he was able to gift his master was another day of life. In his struggle to survive he had became the top courtesan in Frieza's court, a master at seduction and eroticism. Nothing more than a filthy whore writhing under the touch of a sadistic, bloodthirsty tyrant.

Zarbon leaned closer, searching for the man he used to be in the reflection of the man he had become. Since Vegeta had come into power, he had not done a thing that would keep him awake at night in shame. He hadn't killed or tortured anyone and best of all he hadn't been forced to sleep with anyone that he didn't want too. His position in court now was one of respect, not servitude. He served his Lord and Lady by using his wit and savvy, not by laying on his back.

He backed away from the mirror, grim realization spreading through him like a disease. For him, the last few months had been a little slice of heaven and that was more than a piece of filth like he should ever be granted. During this short reprieve, a new person had been born. Someone who was happy and carefree, full of laughter and an almost comical pleasure at being alive, but it was time to return to his true cynical nature.

He watched with calm acceptance as the spark died in his eyes and the darkness reformed in the amber shadows. In this universe there was only one way to be. Cold, hard and deadly. Peace never lasted and terror reigned supreme. He turned away, leaving himself behind in the cold reflection of the mirror.

Zarbon leaned down to Vegeta's ear, his lips moving, but only the barest sound escaping them. After his message was delivered he stepped back, taking his place behind his Lord. He braced his legs apart, folding his hands calmly behind his back, his implacable features never hinting at his distress.

His amber eyes flickered over to the Princess, who shifted subtly in her chair. She turned her head, treating Zarbon to a perfect view of her flawless profile. Her blue eyes roved over Vegeta's face, looking for some sign of his sudden and intense emotional upheaval. She could see nothing except for a slight tightening of his mouth and a terrifying darkening of his eyes.

Vegeta sat forward, listening to the pompous ramblings of one of the representatives, agitation eating at him. He was almost relieved when Zarbon leaned down to whisper in his ear. Finally, something else to think on besides the insult he was forcing upon himself, all to please one woman. His eye flicked to the female beside him. Correction, two women.

Zarbon's words made his blood run cold and the nauseating pitch of the speaker's voice drifted away in a roar. He could feel the Princess' eyes on him, but he refused to look at her, instead fixing his deadly eyes on some distant point in the center of the table.

Bulma had left him.

She had run away like a coward in the night. She had used to ki wand to knock out Raditz who guarded her door and slipped away on a ship, taking Delia with her. His soul contracted in agony and the fiends that crept along the edges of his newly found light roused themselves from their slumber. The teal eyed dragon shifted slightly inside of him, gathering power unto itself.

She had run from him.

After everything he had done for her. Here he sat at this farce of a conference, _negotiating_ with these imbeciles, because of her. In all of his long years serving Frieza he had never bowed to the tyrant's wishes. He had remained unbending and true to his nature. Always he proclaimed who he was without shame or sorrow, but for her he was willing to reshape himself into something that he was not. She didn't want bloodshed. She didn't want war. She didn't want him to be him. The darkness swelled and the dragon roared.

She had abandoned him.

He had sacrificed everything on Namek for her. His sanity. His pride. His wishes. Ye Gods, his wishes. He could have had his planet, his family, his home, but instead he wished for her. He fought to save her from the pits of hell, to give her life once again and this was how she repaid him? By bolting from his side the first chance she got?

The demons hissed and paced restlessly outside the perimeter of light, advancing as the radiance dimmed. He felt freezing hands claw his insides as his fragile soul began to wither and die.

He would have given her anything she could ever want. If only she had asked. If only she would gaze at him with that shinning light that he could only find in her eyes. If only she would look up at him with that small secret smile that she only bestowed on him. Instead she turned away, her presence like an icy rain on his flesh, stinging him with needles of distaste. Shunning him, despising him. Desolation swept across his barren soul, reminding him of the life he once lived, of who he used to be. Insidious whispers echoed through the emptiness of his heart, speaking to him of treachery and betrayal.

Look at him. Playacting for these low life, traitor scum, pretending to be something he wasn't, just like Primus. Always, she controlled their relationship. Telling him what he could and couldn't do, telling him how to behave while pulling all the strings.

She was the reason he had ended up on Namek in the first place. She was the reason he had felt pain for the first time in twenty years. She was the reason for all of his suffering. She was the reason he hesitated when killing. She was the reason he stayed his murderous hand. Her. Her. Her. The demons screeched and the dragon snorted in distress. She was the reason for his weakness.

She stole from him.

He had given her his very carefully guarded heart. He had entrusted her with his fragile emotions. He had convinced himself that it was her very presence that had allowed him to ascend, but he knew now that it was just her manipulating him once again. He had let a fucking female play with his mind.

He deserved this. This is what he got for trusting someone besides himself. This is what he got for allowing himself to believe that he could be different. For one brief enlightened moment, he thought that he could be something other than what he was. A small part of him wanted to be the benevolent king, but in truth he was a monster, a dark prince who was the master of death and carnage.

The protective barrier around his newborn heart and soul rattled and cracked as the fiends tore at the chinks in the wall. The dragon coiled tightly around itself, pulling its tail to safety as the demons crawled forth.

He did not need her.

A piece of his soul shattered and the dragon snarled. The light inside of him dimmed and he felt a split in his heart. He felt alone, separate, incomplete.

He glanced around the room at the blatant disrespect that was being displayed by every single person there. He had claimed the throne in a flurry of bloodshed. He had killed Frieza, ripping his head from his body and he had the trophy to prove it. These people should be crouched at his feet, begging for mercy, not arrogantly demanding concessions from him.

This was her doing. She thought it would be better, more _civilized_. She disagreed with everything that he was. She wanted some perfect prince that would sweep her away and live happily ever after without ever raising his fist in conflict. She wanted something that he could not give her. Peace. She wanted a fantasy, not him. She did not want or need him. She was only using him to become queen. He was nothing more than a pawn in her game. She used him, just like she used Frieza, probably from the very beginning. The self righteous, egotistical bitch.

He did not love her.

His heart shrunk and pulsed with agony. A sorrowful wail echoed across his barren soul, but it was muffled by the shrieking of fiends as they surged over him like a bloody stain. The faintest light of love that had been growing inside of him was stillborn, rejected from his heart like a poisonous seed.

He hated her.

He felt something snap deep down and the screaming of demons resounded in his ears. The wall came crashing down and the dragon roared with outrage. Vegeta could feel the flood of dark power rush through him. It was something he was intimately familiar with, the power of hate and rage. He had been wrong. She was not the key to his power. She was merely a tool, nothing more. It was he, Vegeta, the Prince of All Saiyans who had achieved the Legendary and slew Frieza. He needed no one, only himself. He was a god. His power was limitless.

A flood of writhing blackness flowed over the golden dragon, drowning out the goodness of its light. The demons pulled at the dragon's scales, slipping under and into its body, infecting it. The dragon moaned and the demons laughed as they reclaimed their territory in Vegeta's black soul.

Vegeta ignored the swamping waves of calmness that emanated from the Princess beside him. He turned his head to meet her eyes and he felt a chilling laughter well up inside of him at her panicked gaze. She could feel the shift inside of him, the lessoning of her hold over him.

Death comes to everyone, but it is guaranteed to be painful when inflicted by Vegeta, The Dark Prince of the Universe.

He rose from his chair, abruptly cutting off the tirade of words from the representative of the Shari-Reaves union. The blazing menace that peered out from the shadow of the Emperor's face froze everyone in their seats. Even the servants ceased to scurry about, dropping their platters to the ground with loud clangs as they watched with shocked expectation.

"You dare to insult me." His first words were low and deadly, but they increased in volume, defying the imposed tranquility of the atmosphere. "You dare to believe that I will not punish you all for your impudence." Vegeta's deadly voice boomed throughout the room and the Princess whimpered. No one moved, no one dared to breathe.

"You dare to think that you can make demands of me. ME! The Emperor of the Universe." The delegations shrunk back in their seats and the watching kings and queens paled on their monitors.

Vegeta's lips parted, revealing a row of ivory teeth that glinted maliciously in the low light. The wider his maniacal smile grew the more uneasy the people felt. They shifted in their chairs, darting panicked gazes towards the door. The servants stood rooted to the spot, unable to run away like they so desired.

"You thought wrong." The simple sentence seemed to trigger a chain reaction throughout the room. People sprang up from their chairs and raced towards the exit, only to come to a screeching halt with the heavy double doors slammed shut with a deafening crash.

Vegeta's laughter rang out, filling everyone with overwhelming dread. Slowly they turned to face their Emperor, their executioner.

Vegeta stood at the head of the table, his hands fisted at his sides, his neck bulging with strain. His black hair burst into gold and his eyes turned teal. An aura of power enveloped him, radiating out from him in great heated waves and all the while his maniacal laughter poured over every one present, shriveling their flesh with terror.

Some were awestruck by the light, imagining that he looked like a shining angel, come down to show them mercy. Only the Princess and Zarbon noticed the black lining his golden aura had taken on. A small tainting of the purity of his power.

He could feel his strength coursing through him. His greatest fear had not come to pass. Even though Bulma had left him, he was as strong as ever, stronger even. He was the mightiest being in the universe and nothing could stop him.

Vegeta coiled his body like a lethal predator and sprang forward, lashing out at the closest possible victims. His laughter echoed through the room as the bodies fell to the floor, gurgling and choking on their own blood. The terrified people tried to scream but blood spewed from their lips in a fine spray, leaving behind obscene patterns of gore on the walls and floor.

He reached out, punching through soft flesh and cracking bones. He reveled in the feel of wrapping his strong hands around the delicate arms and necks of his offenders, squeezing until he felt their flesh bulge between his fingers. Their thin skin burst under the pressure with a rending of bone and a gush of blood, feeding the raging beast inside of him. Blood desecrated the white walls of the palace and sprayed across the monitors. The stunned gaze of kings and queens peered out behind the crimson coating, watching with horror as their subjects were slain without mercy or regret, by the man they chose to disrespect.

Princess Aigneis leapt up from her seat, gathering her great power around her, preparing to bind the emperor with silken ropes of tranquility. Unexpectedly, muscular arms wrapped around her and a vicious voice whispered in her ear.

"I don't think so Princess."

She instantly recognized the cool tones of Zarbon, but a shiver of fear raced down her spine. She had never heard the jovial man sound so distant, so incredibly deadly. She struggled, but her physical strength was no match for his. Distracted as she was she could not gather the spiritual energy she needed to calm the raging monarch. She whimpered and opened her mouth to plead with Zarbon, but a green hand quickly muffled her.

"Don't make me kill you. I will not hesitate to snap your neck." Her heart leapt into her throat in an effort to escape her fear. His words were clipped and concise, leaving her no doubt that he would do exactly as he promised.

Her eyes widened when she saw a badly mangled body rocketing towards them. Zarbon pushed her aside and her silvery, butterfly wings burst from her back automatically to help balance herself. Zarbon batted the body away easily and already dead blood arched from the body, splattering her pristine clothing. She looked down, unable to comprehend the sight of the scarlet droplets that stained her flowing white dress. Her huge blue eyes darted up to meet Zarbon's emotionless gaze. His gem-hard amber eyes flickered over her, taking in her defiled ethereal appearance.

A small part of him, the part of him that refused to die, but was buried under callused indifference, wanted to reach out and drag the delicate creature from this monstrous place, but he could not. He served King Vegeta now. The lord and master of the universe. His lord and master. No matter how much it hurt to shut away the man he so desperately wanted to be, he knew where his loyalties lay. He would serve the emperor until his dying breath.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a self-mocking smile when he read the defeat in her eyes. Only the mighty could effect change and she was not as powerful as that. For all her strength, she did not have the mental capacity to deal with the living breathing embodiment of hell and the demons that wrought it. She was on the brink of the realization that she could never be more than a passive observer in a universe that rejected her goodness and snubbed her humanity. Her attempts to steer fate to her liking was futile and laughable. Only the strong survived and the weak perished. He whirled away, burying his fist into the stomach of an escaping servant. The princess backed away, watching with horror filled eyes at the carnage that was being wrecked around her by the two madmen.

Bodies dropped to the ground at an alarming rate and the screams that were so deafening before began to die out the fewer people were left. There was so much blood that it soaked the carpet and the pads underneath. It ran in rivers into the seams of the building so that it bled into the soil that it stood on, tainting the very core of the planet. So much blood that it would never be washed away.

Someone grabbed the hem of her dressed and she felt a painful yank on her wing. She glanced down to see a young woman, trying to use her as an anchor to pull herself into a standing position. Princess Aigneis leaned down to help the woman, but a flash a light caught her attention. She glanced up in time to see a blue ball of light hurtling towards her. She jumped back, the woman's grip rending her gown. She slipped in a pool of blood and fell to the ground ungracefully. Before her stunned gaze, the woman she had been trying to help burst into flame, screaming in agony as her flesh melted from her bones.

The princess scooted back on her behind, sliding easily on the blood slicked floor. She bumped into the wall and used it as a support to haul herself off the ground. Her dainty wing caught under her heel as she struggled to stand and she hissed in pain.

When the last body hit the floor, Vegeta stood silently his back to the room. Zarbon stood to the side, apparently unaffected by the gore that dripped down the walls and the carpet of corpses on the floor. Vegeta's hair still glowed golden, but she could see where blood was matting it down and his once blue uniform was now nearly black in some places.

Slowly he turned, his teal eyes instantly finding her terrified ones. He held her gaze for endless moments, until she could not bear it a second longer. She blinked back her tears and when her eyes opened again he was standing directly in front of her. She shrank back into the corner, desperately trying to escape him. He stood so close now that she could see the black pupils of his eyes. The dark ring was dilated and the blackness starred out, infecting the beautiful teal color.

As Vegeta surveyed the destruction he had wrought, he could feel the censuring gaze of the princess behind him. He turned slowly to face her, taking in her ragged appearance. He could see the hem of her gown was ripped away and was stained red with blood. She made no effort to hide her silvery butterfly wings now and one was ragged and torn. She clasped her pale hands in front of her, directing him a look so full of forlorn misery that he almost laughed.

She blinked away her tears and he appeared in front of her, the sick need to torment her rising inside of him.

"So what do you think, Angel? Is it how you imagined these peace talks going?" His voice was soft, almost alluringly musical. He waved his hand to the monitors behind him and abruptly he turned his back on her, addressing the remaining rulers who watched from the safety of their thrones.

"You dare to defy me and you will be punished. Mark my words well, traitors. I will be coming for you all very soon and your sorrowful words of regret will fall on deaf ears. I give you warning, prepare yourselves and your families. Your time here in this dimension is limited." His voice was not raised in damning anger, but soft and echoing with hellish promise. Many bolted from their thrones, their fear of the man who was light years away ruling their weak minds.

Princess Aigneis swallowed hard, calling on her innate calmness to assist her while she searched for the words that would save her.

"Please, Prince Vegeta. Think of what you are doing." Her whisper turned into a gasp as he whipped around, closing the distance between them. He wrapped a blood-stained, gloved hand around her throat and pushed her against the unyielding wall. His eyes roved over her porcelain features, stopping at her blue hair.

His other hand drifted up to toy with a powder blue lock that had escaped its confining pony tail. His nimble fingers undid her simple clip and he pulled her hair forward so it cascaded over her shoulder in a shimmering waterfall. He ran the smooth locks through his fingers as if testing their texture.

"So very beautiful." He said to himself, seemingly unaware of her presence. He lifted the strands to his nose, inhaling deeply. He dropped her locks with a sneer of disgust that caused her to shudder. "It smells all wrong though."

The princess stared at him wide eyed, her heart racing in her chest. "T-think of B-bulma." She stuttered, unable to contain her fear.

Vegeta's face hardened to an impervious mask of steel. His tainted gaze met her deep blue eyes and she felt her soul shrivel up like a rose in winter. "I am thinking of that bitch." Vegeta's evil glare bore into her and she felt his hot breath on her cheek as he leaned in close. "I think you would make a nice substitute for her." His hand tightened around her throat and she struggled for air. Her eyes darted over his wide shoulder, locking on Zarbon who stood facing the Shari-Reeves monitor.

Zarbon's eyes narrowed as he watched the screen, a flash of color diverting his attention. The two monarchs had fled their throne room, leaving the camera still in place. From behind the thrones he saw a shadowy figure dart to the side, revealing only an instant of violet radiance that left him with a lingering surge of yearning.

He heard the princess whimper and he hunched his shoulders against the sound. He leaned over, flipping the screen off, keeping his back to his Lord.

Princess Aigneis realize that she would find no aide from the emerald man and her eyes locked once again with Vegeta's. His golden aura shrunk down around him, seeping back into his pores and dousing the bright light. His gold hair melted to midnight and his teal eyes returned to their diamond black coldness.

She felt the press of his fingers on the side of her throat, squeezing the very life from her. Her eyes welled up with tears and they poured over cheeks, dripping onto his forearm. He ignored the wetness and pressed harder, reveling in the feel of her pulse beneath his fingertips.

Vegeta leaned in close to her and somehow through the rush of blood in her ears, she heard him speak to her.

"I would have died a thousand deaths for her." He whispered in her pink shell ear. "Now I will slay millions for her." He promised with conviction. His soft growl wove itself down her spine, making her think of a ravenous animal.

With one hand he lifted her up, until her toes brushed the floor and her wings were splayed brokenly against the cool stone wall. He nipped at her chin, before breathing in her ear once again.

"Take that message to your gods, Angel." All at once she felt the sickening collapse of her esophagus and then blissfully there was nothing.

Vegeta and Zarbon blinked as they stood on the bridge of their ship, staring at empty space where there should have been a planet. They glanced around observing the startled faces of their crew who were taken off guard at their sudden appearance.

Vegeta growled, turning his narrowed glare back at the view screen. It was obvious to him that he had been ousted from the sanctuary of Folaithe Ceo. He had outstayed his welcome and they had removed his offensive person. He was impressed with their power at being able to bodily move him from the planet's surface to the deck of his ship in a blink of an eye, but he felt intense satisfaction that they had felt the need to do so. The cowardly planet had slipped away again, disappearing into the obscure folds of time and space, perhaps never to be heard from again.

Vegeta spat orders to his men to advance on the nearest planet that defied him. He left the room, certain that Zarbon would see to the details. He needed a moment to welcome back his true self and say goodbye to the weakling who had dwelled in his place for so many months. He ignored the smallest corner of his heart that cried out in longing and despair, unable to kill off the barest remnant of remorse that lingered inside of him.

Princess Aigneis Aingeal lay prone in the blood-soaked room that was shrouded in the mists once again. A deep crimson pool ringed her body and her small hand was clasped lightly around her bruised throat. Her endless blue eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling, while silent tears flowed down her cheeks, forging paths through the warm blood. She cried for the many innocents who lay dead around her. She sobbed for the soul of the man whom had caused such pain. She wept for the many more deaths that would come and she wailed for the universe, for already she could hear its screams of pain.


	9. Midnight Musings

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ nor do I own the song Simple Kind of Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd

A/N: Okay so the way I figure it, everybody probably has music. Humans wouldn't be the only ones to corner the market on that. In so saying, I have absolutely no creative powers when it comes to song writing so I have instead chosen to incorporate a song in this chapter as if it was playing in the background.

Chapter Nine

Midnight Musings

The belief that space is utterly silent is a misconception. It's filled with a hundred little noises that begin to pry persistently on your nerves like a crowbar. It chips away your sanity a piece at a time, hollowing out your reason until you snap like a rabid animal.

Bulma gritted her teeth as she listened to the rustling of Delia's clothing as she shifted in her seat once again. The navigational controls pinged as the sonar reached out to touch any unseen space debris and maneuver silently around it. Bulma compulsively rechecked their course for the thousandth time, her fingernails clicking across the panel.

Delia shifted again and Bulma's full lips depressed into a thin line.

"Do you think they will ever forgive us?" Delia's whispered question crashed down on them with the full force of an avalanche in a still, snow-covered valley.

Bulma's head dropped and her hair fell around her face in a curtain, shielding her from the accusation that hung in the air. The thought of the anger and betrayal that Vegeta must be feeling right now nearly choked her. She checked their course again, refusing to answer, her eyes anchored to the console in front of her. The silence rolled over them in a thick blanket of icy remorse that lingered heavy in the air, the pall of guilt nearly deafening.

Delia shifted, the ping sounded and Bulma checked the controls.

The hours passed and both women were slumped in their seats, each lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly the pitch of the familiar ping changed and Bulma quickly straightened in her chair, her fingers flying over the keys. Delia sat forward as well, eagerly awaiting Bulma's announcement.

"Primus Starbase has been detected by long range scanners. It is running on minimal power and the energy output for the environmentals indicates that the base is abandoned."

Delia let out a long sigh of relief and both women sprang into action as they readied their ship to dock.

When Frieza had unexpectedly arrived at the base so long ago and uprooted the women, they hadn't had a chance to collect some of their most precious belongings. In the miserable months that followed and in the chaos of Vegeta's ascension to the throne, they had lain forgotten on the dusty base only to be remembered now that they were on their way to the Badlands.

They had been concerned that the base was still inhabited by homeless soldiers or worse a band of pillaging bandits. The fact that the base was abandoned eased their mind quit a bit, giving them time to dock and collect their belongings without worrying about trying to defend themselves.

Also they needed money and while Vegeta had severely handicapped Bulma's funds, he had no true idea of how wealthy she really was or how many accounts she had under different aliases. Her time spent serving Frieza had taught her the fine art of subterfuge and she wasn't above using it on her mate when needed.

She had several credit chips in the stash in her forgotten room. Plus there was one other item that she was eager to obtain. For some unexplainable reason the urge to retrieve the Torque of Kingship was becoming an undeniable need.

The base environmentals had activated as soon as their ship was in range to dock and the lights sprang on when they exited the hatch. The women went their separate ways, both silently thankful to be parted from each other's company for a short time.

As Bulma walked down the hall her heels echoed eerily in the empty corridor, making her unreasonably skittish. She half expected some monster to jump out from a dark corner and grab her. To save energy the lights illuminated only as she entered a room and dimmed shortly after she left it, leaving her feeling strangely alone in the universe as if she was the only living being left.

She passed the Regeneration Room and she allowed a small smile to drift across her lips. She remembered the first time that she had seen the Saiyan Prince who had eventually stolen her heart. He had been so distant and cold, seemingly untouchable by a mere mortal woman. Somehow she had braved the chill of his icy heart, daring to reach out and touch him only to have her body and soul catch fire with the pure intensity of his emotions.

She continued down the hall, her mind wondering over the many memories that her and Vegeta had created during their time on the base. She chuckled lightly at the recollections of their antics in the mess hall and their heated kisses that put blistering suns to shame.

As she neared the room that they had shared together, a blush rose up on her cheeks and her thighs began to tingle as she remembered their first night together. He had made love to her with such devotion that she thought for sure she would die from bliss. Until that moment he hadn't shown her an iota of emotion indicating that he felt anything other than grudging respect for her skills and passing friendship, but that night had changed everything.

She knew now that she loved him long before that evening. She had probably fallen for him the first time she saw him floating in the Regeneration Tank, strong, defiant, utterly arrogant and so impossibly alone.

She was happy just to have him that one night. To reach out and possess him for a handful of hours and call him hers. She never thought that all their plotting and planning would eventually have come to this. Now, somewhere out there in the universe they had a beautiful baby boy, created from one perfect night of a coming together of two damaged souls.

Bulma entered their room and gracefully moved the chair out of the way so she could access the hidden safe in the floor.

Since the fateful day when she had been resurrected on Namek she had asked herself what had changed, what she had missed. Obviously a massive shift had taken place inside of Vegeta while she had been dead and somehow he placed all responsibility for his new found power squarely on her shoulders.

She was frightened by the madness that she saw gleaming in his eyes as he stared darkly across the table from her. She was scared and so incredibly sad. She wanted to reach out and sooth the frown away from his forehead with a cool, calming hand. She wished that she had some sort of magic power that would allow her to reach into his soul and pluck out whatever was infecting him. She wanted him to be happy for once in his life. She wanted him to accept her love. She wanted him to love her, not own her.

She reached into the hole and picked up the smooth wooden box that stood nestled among her treasures. She placed it on the foot of the bed, kneeling on the floor as she flipped open the gold latch. She lifted the lid and she had to restrain the gasp that rose up inside of her. Although she had seen it many times before, she was still awed by the sheer beauty and raw power the torque embodied. She started when the light in the living area clicked off, leaving her alone in the dimly lit bedroom.

With a trembling hand she reached out to trail her fingers across the smooth stone. As soon as she felt the coolness beneath her touch she was besieged with an onslaught of images that nearly choked her with their intensity. Heaving, Bulma reflexively clutched the torque to her chest, tears running down her cheeks as she shuddered with the force of her sobs that ripped up from her throat.

Behind her eyelids she saw pools of blood that ran as deep as oceans and bodies piled as high as mountains. Screams of terror echoed in her ears and the burning of flesh stung her nostrils. The images flashed and she saw race after race being annihilated, person after person being murdered in their homes as their children cried. A pale, blue haired woman with silver wings stood beside her and watched it all with silent tears, her pain echoing Bulma's. She saw the destruction of one world after another and behind it all there was the unmistakable visage of Vegeta. Her lover, her sovereign, her monster.

She looked up to see him standing over her, ignoring her very presence as if he could turn away from the past that they shared. "Oh Vegeta. How could you? How could you?" She whispered as her heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

Vegeta stood on the rise overlooking the once verdant valley. Now before him there were only the smoking ruins of burning homes and the screams of the slaughtered. He felt the familiar rush of blood lust as he gazed over the landscape and he reveled in the surge of adrenalin in his veins. He couldn't believe that he almost gave this up, that he had been willing to lock away this part of his life because of some foolish female's whim.

He hadn't felt this excited about a purge in a decade. He remembered the nearly maniacal pleasure he took as an adolescent as he ripped apart worlds and watched them burn under the heat of his hatred. As the years had past his heart had hardened and he had stowed away his emotions until he felt nothing but resolve to do his duty. Somewhere, somehow his carefully shuttered emotions had been reawakened leaving him free to feel the pleasures of the kill once again.

Below him a small boy about ten raced passed, his lavender hair streaming behind him. Vegeta cocked his head to the side and a stifled memory moaned in the back of his mind. Ruthlessly he crushed the faint protests in his heart and with a cruel smile he ignited his ki in the tip of his finger, taking aim. He laughed mercilessly as he let the bolt fly, striking down the boy before he had a chance to escape his fate.

"How could you Vegeta?"

His already wicked smirk widened as the soft dulcet voice wrapped its way around him. He glanced to the side, not really surprised to see Bulma huddled down by his feet, clutching something protectively to her chest. He was frankly shocked that he hadn't seen her sooner. It was only inevitable that she would make her appearance. They were irrevocably linked, eternally connected.

Her blue eyes were glistening with tears, her face pale with terror and disappointment. It was so like her to judge him, while she was the one who betrayed him. She had failed in her duty as his mate. Her vows to him were as empty and meaningless as his own heart.

He shrugged, smiling down at her chillingly. "It's easy really. Watch." He looked back out over the massacre and targeted a woman who was running for her life while trying to shield her baby from attack. He took careful aim, making sure to pass the blast through her body so it hit the infant as well.

"Look. Two in one." He snickered evilly and winked down at his treacherous mate.

She looked like she was about to gag and Vegeta moved away to save his boots. She heaved a broken sob and her tears flowed in a crystal flood down her cheeks. She reached out to grasp his pant leg, but he quickly darted further away, unwilling to have her touch him. He didn't want to risk contamination by her loving caress.

"Please don't do this. Please! I know you really don't want to." She pleaded with him, her eyes impossibly wide.

"What do you know what I want woman? You ran off the first chance you got. You are nothing but a backstabbing little whore that I should kill the first chance I get." Vegeta snarled down at her, fiery rage burning in his hellish eyes. Oh yes, he could feel the anger thrumming through his veins, infusing him with its power. She had been the one to show him the path to his emotions and she would be the one to suffer for it. In the past he had hated. He hated Frieza because he had enslaved him, beaten him and tortured him, but he hated Bulma because she had done so much worse. She had done what the vicious tyrant could not.

She had broken him.

"I know you are angry at me Vegeta, but don't punish the universe for it. All these innocent people…" Bulma looked around her helplessly as she watched Vegeta's soldiers butcher more screaming victims.

"You have no idea who or what I am. I thought you understood the values of ruthlessness and loyalty. I thought you were worthy enough to be my queen, that you cared enough to be my mate, but you are nothing but a disappointment to me and the throne. You are nothing but a liar." Vegeta spat at her, his venom overflowing from his eyes.

As he spoke a dark shadow seethed at his side, eventually taking form. Seemingly out of nowhere another woman appeared, her visage and body startling similar to Bulma's but with a taint of evil that wafted off her like an expensive perfume. She had dark blue hair that was nearly black in color, her skin was as creamy as milk and her red lips glistened under the sun.

She preened at Vegeta's side, her tight pale purple and ivory dress hugging her every curve. As she moved in the sunlight, Bulma could see that the fabric was woven into pattern similar to the scales on a dragon…or a lizard.

She laughed as Vegeta shot down another villager and his own mirth twined sinisterly with hers. Bulma stared in horror struck fascination at the woman Vegeta had conjured to be his ultimate queen. Someone who was just as bloodthirsty and ruthless as he. Someone who accepted all of his murderous faults and reveled in his cruelty. His yin to his yang.

Bulma swallowed down the bile in her throat as Vegeta reached out and grabbed the other woman, kissing her with a mindless passion that was born from the hedonistic pleasure of killing. They pulled apart and the woman looked deep into Vegeta's eyes, her red lips appearing as though they were coated in wet blood.

"You will be the most vicious tyrant the universe has ever seen."

Vegeta bolted upright in bed, his hand flailing for the light switch on his nightstand. The pale yellow light clicked on and in his frantic reaching he accidentally nudged the small stereo that was beside the lamp. He never listened to music, but Zarbon had insisted in installing one in his quarters. Vegeta had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with soothing the savage beast.

His bare feet hit the floor and the black silk bed sheets crumbled up around his waist, leaving his torso bare. He braced his elbows on his knees as he dropped his head into his hands, digging his fingers into his hair. He breathed heavily as the pseudo-queen's words echoed around in his head. His body shuddered and the sweat beaded between his shoulder blades, before rolling down his back. His skin gleamed bronze in the lamplight, the only color in his midnight sheets.

The dim light could not reach out to the rest of the shadowy quarters on his flag ship. He was surrounded by the small pool and outside of its reach he could hear the shifting and seething of the shades that haunted him throughout his waking and sleeping hours.

The strains of a softly strummed stringed instrument filled the air along with the husky voice of some distant singer. He lost himself to his painful thoughts as the words from the haunting song echoed around him.

_Mama told me, when I was young_

_Come sit beside me, my only son_

_And listen closely, to what I say_

_And if you do this_

_It will help you some sunny day_

What a Kami-awful dream. It had started out normally enough. Since he had started his universal rampage he had barely been able to sleep, only falling into his bed when the exhaustion overcame him. Always he dreamed that he was standing on the hill watching the extinction of yet another race that defied him. Usually it was the same race that he had slaughtered just that day or earlier in the week, but the dream itself was unchanging.

Except this time Bulma had been there, with her wide, accusing eyes and shocked face. He had wondered how long it would take her to initiate their telepathic bond, had even toyed with the thought that he wasn't worth wasting her time over as the days had passed without her mental touch. Vegeta had felt relief when she had finally made an appearance, but then the familiar anger built up inside of him. When he looked down at her he could barely contain himself. He wanted to turn Super Saiyan right then and there, proving to her and himself that he didn't need her. He desperately wanted to blast her out of existence, annihilating his fatal flaw, but instead he taunted her with the proof of the monster he was becoming.

_Ohh take your time…Don't live too fast,_

_Troubles will come, and they will pass_

_Go find a woman and you'll find love_

_And don't forget son_

_There is someone up above_

He couldn't believe the amount of rage just being in her presence evoked. Not even Frieza had been able to coax that amount of shameful emotion from him. Every time he looked at her, he saw their past together, their life as it once was. He remembered saving her that first time in the hallway on Primus as payment for her own selfless act of bravery earlier in the week.

Later he found out that her act wasn't nearly as selfless as it appeared, but he wasn't surprised. In this brutal universe nothing was given freely, not mercy and certainly not compassion. Somehow during his time spent with her he had forgotten that lesson and he had allowed himself to believe in her lies. To believe in her.

Namek had been the ultimate nightmare as well as a supreme victory for him. During his short time there he had unearthed something he thought he had buried long ago. His heart.

His desire, his need to be with his mate was so great that it allowed him to reach down and tap the power that lingered inside of him for so long. He was no fool. He would admit that it was his love for her that broke down the barrier.

What a cosmic joke.

_And be a simple kind of man_

_Oh be something you'll love and understand _

_Baby be a simple kind of man_

_Won't you do this for me son_

_If you can? _

He knew why he was so angry at her. Yes she had betrayed him. Yes she had run away from him, but that only scratched the surface of his pain. Vegeta had learned a valuable lesson on Namek. He had learned to love another, but unfortunately he had skipped an important part of the teaching. He never learned to love himself.

That was why he was so angry. He knew that he was worthless. He was nothing more than a monster, whose only use was to rampage across the universe, causing destruction and bloodshed in his wake. For all his power, for all his strength, he was a creature to be scorned and hated. To be spat on as he passed. His arrogance shielded him from the truth. He was a bastard, unworthy of anyone's love and her leaving proved it.

He knew all these things, yet he had dared to dream. He had reached out to touch the stars only to be rejected. He was inferior when compared to the perfection of the woman he chose to love. He had come to believe that it was his right to be granted such a gift as love. His birth alone guaranteed certain benefits, but those had been torn away from him at such a young age. He could fight for respect, he could kill for power, but love would be forever out of his reach. He may have been born a prince, but he had been fashioned into a tyrant and no sane person would want to be mated to that. Especially a woman like Bulma.

His anger was directed at himself. He had dared to be disappointed when she had turned her back on him. He had dared to hope. He had known better, but he had ignored his common sense and his instincts.

He had allowed himself to feel.

_Forget you lust for the rich man's gold_

_All that you need is in your soul_

_And you can do this if you try _

_All that I want for you my son_

_Is to be satisfied_

He didn't know where the other woman had come from. A manifestation of his damaged psyche he supposed, but her presence had disturbed him far more than Bulma's.

Her words, the same prophetic words that Frieza had uttered to him so long ago, stabbed him through the heart, nearly rendering him dead. In the end, Frieza had been right. He was the most vicious tyrant the universe had ever seen.

_Boy, don't you worry…you'll find yourself_

_Follow your heart and nothing else_

_And you can do this if you try _

_All I want for you my son _

_Is to be satisfied_

Vegeta abruptly sat up from the bed, slamming his fist down on the stereo and smashing it to bits. He gathered up his clothes and hurriedly dressed himself.

He would never be something that anyone would love and understand, especially himself. He had only one path in life and he was a fool to think that he could forge another. He was a killer, he was a conqueror. He was the Emperor of the universe and all would tremble under his shadow.

He was Death.

He stalked out of the room and didn't look back.

A/N: All this emotional upheaval is upsetting. Gees where is the action/adventure part of this story?

Tempest flips ahead a couple of pages

Oh here it is. Monsters, explosions, a couple of fight scenes. Tempests crinkles her nose

Oh yeah, someone dies.

Tempest slaps her hand over her mouth

Oops let the cat out of the bag didn't I?

Tempest sniggers maliciously

Next chapter, GIRL POWER, waves her fist in the air Go home team!


	10. Viper's Kiss

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, this is just a sick manifestation of my own fantasies.

Chapter Ten

Viper's Kiss

"This is our target, Capri Gervais." Bulma keyed up the image on the onboard computer as she briefed Delia on her plan. He was a plain looking man with rust colored hair and odd gray eyes. There was a sly set to his face that told the fact that he was morally corrupt and probably evolved in nefarious doings. In all, Bulma thought he looked like a weasel.

"He is the only person known to actually have met Saffron face to face. If anyone knows how to contact the slave trader it would be him." Bulma had tried numerous times unsuccessfully to first buy Trunks from the slaver king and then to set up a meeting. She had been blocked at every turn until she had no more choice. If she couldn't set up a meet, then she would go through someone who could.

"I don't know about this Bulma…" Delia looked at the computer screen uncertainly. She wanted to get Trunks back just as badly as Bulma, but their plan was risky at best.

"What choice to do we have?" Bulma snapped at her companion. Delia drew away and Bulma instantly softened her voice.

"Look, you agree that we have to get in to see Saffron, right?" At Delia's hesitant nod, she continued. "The only way we are going to be able to do that is through Gervais."

"But, I don't know if this is the best way to do that." Delia shuddered slightly and looked down at the floor.

"We both know that he isn't going to volunteer to take us to Saffron's hideout without some sort of persuasion. A man who has the trust of the biggest, baddest slaver in the universe isn't going to be swayed by waving a bunch of cash under his nose. We are going to have to give him something that he really wants." Bulma explained patiently, but she couldn't stop her muscles from tensing in frustration. Delia was a loyal friend, but she was so rabbity. Bulma felt like she had two different missions, find Trunks and teach Delia to tap her natural female confidence that was trapped inside of her waiting to burst out.

"I don't think I can do it." Delia admitted quietly, her shame at disappointing her mistress nearly overwhelming her.

"Can you administer the poison?" Bulma didn't wait for her reply before continuing. "Can you threaten a man's life? Let's face it Delia, I'm much more intimidating than you. That means you are going to have to lure him in."

Delia pressed her knees together as she shifted in her seat. She wanted desperately to please Bulma and do what she asked, but it had been such a long time since she had been anything other than a shy little mouse. Once long ago, back on her home planet she had been the belle of the ball, but that seemed like another life time. Did she even remember how to flirt? How to tempt a man?

"The sooner we do this, the sooner we can get back home to our men." Bulma prodded her, hoping that thoughts of Jarrell and Raditz would prompt her.

"The sooner we can die, you mean?" Delia raised her head, her violet eyes glittering with clarity. She was no fool. She knew that death only waited for her back on Capital World and she was no longer so sure that it didn't stalk Bulma as well.

It was Bulma's turn to shift in her seat as she looked away from her friend. She had yet to tell her companion of the bloody vision she had shared with Vegeta and she doubted she ever would. What she saw ripped at her heart like a serrated dagger. She was afraid to tap into the communications that were whizzing around the galaxies for fear of what she might hear. She didn't want to know what Vegeta was doing while she was away.

"Are you saying that you won't do it Delia? Did we do all this for nothing?" Bulma locked away her pain and pinned Delia to her seat with an icy glare. She had come this far. She had betrayed her heart and her lover, she would not leave empty handed.

Delia's usually soft mouth hardened into a determined line. Before Frieza she had been a beautiful, confident woman that could have any man she wanted and she would be one once again, if only to help her friend.

"I will do it." She vowed, her gaze never once breaking away from Bulma's.

The ping of the sonar advised the women that they had reached their goal, a planet by the name of Atha 12, deep within the Badlands. With identical sighs they turned away from each other and focused on the separate tasks they would each need to perform, all in the name of love.

A few hours later Delia found herself outside the most notorious nightclub in the badlands, Tortuga, otherwise known as Hell's Playground. The red glare of the neon light pulsed seductively and all around her Delia could hear insidious movement in the shadows. She dared not peer too closely for fear of what she might find.

She approached the ominous building and was surprised when the huge guard let her pass without comment his only fee was to let his eyes slide over her body. A gangly man behind her was not so lucky. A few steps inside of the doorway Delia paused, her hands absently tugging down the indecently short shirt that hugged her hips. A large alien shoved his way past her with an annoyed grunt and she quickly stepped to the side, placing her back to the wall while she scanned the smoky room.

The thudding of music pounded down on her from all sides, making her head ache with the pressure. The noise made it nearly impossible to carry on a conversation, but as Delia looked around she could see that talking wasn't why the patrons were there. Scantily clad waitress that doubled as club whores weaved in and out of the crowd, sometimes disappearing for minutes at a time as some alien pulled them into their lap for a quick fuck.

Couples writhed around her in the shadows, twisting their bodies into obscene patterns of lust. Others stood around waist high tables guzzling down various hued alcohols and indulging in hallucinatory opiates. She saw more than one person pass out in the middle of the floor in the few minutes that she stood there, only to watch as they were kicked or dragged up against a wall and out of the way.

Delia swallowed and tugged on her bodice to cover up more of her golden skin. She was dressed in a matching red skirt and top that was so tight that it looked like it was vacuum wrapped onto her body. She had pulled her long hair up into a pony tail on the top of her head, so that it hung down to her waist in a smooth glimmering waterfall. Her eyes were lined with knoll giving them a cattish tilt and her lips were painted bright crimson.

She clenched her fists at her sides as beads of cold sweat ran down her back. She tried to swallow, but her suddenly dry mouth couldn't form enough spit to get the job done. She desperately tried to remember what Bulma had told her before she left their hotel room.

"Head up, shoulders back. Walk like you have purpose and don't look anyone in the eyes. And for Kami's sake, don't scuttle around with you eyes glued to the floor. It makes you look like a victim." Bulma had directed like a drill sergeant.

Delia raised her chin and shoved her shoulders back, suddenly very aware how her breasts thrust out appealingly. She tightened her lips and stepped out into the writhing crowd that was gyrating to the music. She scanned the room with determination, slipping by people while looking for her intended target.

Out of nowhere she felt a large hand encircle her wrist and she was pulled off her three inch heels right into someone's lap.

"Hello pretty!" An excited voice chirped in her ear and Delia twisted her head to see the monstrous beast of a man who had her trapped.

"Please…" Delia began, but the man cut her off.

"Please? Why I sure will. I will please you all night long lovely." The man shifted her closer and began to fondle her breasts lewdly while his other hand tried to find its way under her skirt.

Delia wasn't quit sure what happened after that. All she saw was a haze of red. One minute she was in his lap and the next moment she was standing over him while his body contorted into a painful, twisted heap on the floor.

She held her ki wand out in front of her purposefully, the setting all the way to kill. She coolly scanned the other's who shared the table with the man who had assaulted her and they returned her look with innocent upraised hands, indicating that they wanted no trouble.

A burly guard, covered in thick brown fur, made his way over to them, his lips stretched back away from his fangs in a dangerous snarl.

"What the hell happen here?" He ground out while glaring down at the small woman.

Delia's jaw worked a few times, the urge to hunch her shoulders and mumble some excuse screaming down her spine. Instead she listened to the faint, almost forgotten voice deep inside her. Delia turned the bouncer, conveying as much false confidence as she could without upchucking what little dinner she had in her stomach and allowed a small smile to grace her beautiful lips. "I merely told the man that I did not wish to share his company. When he did not agree, I changed his mind for him."

The guard smirked and kicked the trash that was at his feet. "Right-O then missy. We'll just move him out of your way."

Delia blinked. That was it? No yelling, no hitting, no punishment? She had killed that man because he had tried to force himself on her. That was unacceptable wasn't it? For so long at had been anyone's right to use her body as they pleased, but suddenly she had a say in the matter. She could say no.

Delia nodded and turned away, the breath she hadn't been aware that she was holding, escaping silently past her lips. Her lavender eyes drifted down to her weapon. When the man had grabbed her, she could only think of one thing. Never again. She would never again be a victim when she had the power and strength to fight for her freedom. She was only as weak as she allowed herself to be. It was time for her to reach out and reclaim her dignity and honor.

She squared her shoulders with renewed determination. She had a mission to complete and she could not fail her friend now.

She moved towards the bar, relieved that no one else tried to snatch her off her feet. Her new found self assurance was fragile at best and she didn't need anymore challenges then necessary tonight. She waved down the bartender, ordering an Emelian Sunset, certain that it would calm her nerves. The woman raised her brow at Delia for ordering such a stiff drink, but she made it without comment. Delia threw the money down on the bar, snatching up the glass while turning to examine the ebb and flow of the people around her.

She took her first sip of the concoction and to her credit she didn't choke as it swathed a fiery path down her throat and into her stomach. She took a couple more swallows and soon she was feeling right as rain as her tense muscles began to relax. The thought of luring her prey back to her liar didn't sound as impossible as it had before.

Suddenly the man she was looking for appeared out of the crowd and stepped up to the bar next to her. Delia couldn't believe her dumb luck. She continued to stare out into the gyrating mass while she listened to him place his order. She hooked her heel back on the foot rail, extending her bent knee out and allowing her skirt to ride even higher up her pale thigh. She leaned her elbows back on the bar so her breasts nearly popped out of her bodice and she saw more than one male miss their step as they walked by.

For her final move she tossed her head, smirking with approval as her long hair slid off her shoulder and landed on his arm that was resting on the bar. She pretended not to notice her unruly tresses as she took a sip from her drink while watching the band up on stage.

She felt him wrap a hand around her silky hair and she almost laughed at the ease that he took the bait. No male could resist beautiful hair. He leaned over and she felt his hot breath on her bare shoulder as he whispered into her ear.

"You have gorgeous hair."

Delia took another drink before answering, her eyes never leaving the stage. It was show time. Her performance would make or break all their plans. They may never get a second chance and Bulma might lose her son forever. She took a deep breath before responding, allowing herself to think back to a time before she had been broken.

"Do you think so?"

The man seeing this as an invitation moved closer, his body heat seeping through his clothes. Delia had to resist the urge to shift away and only the monumental control of her body that she had developed over the years held her still.

"Yes, definitely."

Delia turned, allowing her breasts to brush against his chest while she placed her empty glass on the table. She was very glad that she had chosen a drink loaded with alcohol. It made her so much more uninhibited. She met his gray eyes with a challenging light and her lips curved into a welcoming smile.

"If you think my hair is gorgeous, you should see the rest of me."

Gervais' sly face turned lustful, but she could see a hint of unease in his eyes. He didn't completely trust her yet and she knew why. He was an average guy and she was well out of his league when it came down to looks. Why would such a beautiful woman welcome his advances? If he had any doubt to her intentions then he wouldn't leave the bar with her. Delia's palms began to sweat as she considered her new problem.

He cocked his head to the side, indicating a dark corner at the end of the bar. "Why don't we go over there and find out." He offered with a salacious grin.

Taking a huge risk, Delia scoffed and rolled her eyes at him in clear dismissal. She turned her back and smiled at the gentleman to her other side who returned her grin eagerly. She felt Gervais step out from the bar and she tensed with fear that he would stalk away, but instead he turned her to face him as she had hoped.

"What the fuck was that?" He sneered, his pride injured by her snub.

Delia tossed her hair and looked down at him. "I'm much too expensive for some mindless grope in the dark. If you can't afford me for all night then I would appreciate it if you let me find someone who can."

The suspicious glint in his eyes faded away as comprehension dawned on him. Of course she would flirt with him. She would flirt with anyone with enough creds.

"How much?" He asked slowly, uncertain if she was worth it.

Delia hesitated for a moment. She hadn't intended to pass herself off as a whore, so she had no price in mind. She had to pick an amount that wasn't out of Gervais' league, but at the same time made her sound alluringly expensive.

"Twenty thousand credits." She challenged as she ran her fingers through her long hair.

"What! For one night?" His shocked outraged almost made her change her mind, but then she saw the spark of interest in the back of his eyes. She could feel the lust ebbing off of him in waves and she almost choked on her laughter. This was too easy. She had almost forgotten what it was like to manipulate the male species to her advantage.

She leaned her body into his, allowing her breasts to press fully against his chest. She slid her hand up his thigh as she edged her lips close to his. She cupped his arousal through his pants while she purred against his lips.

"Trust me, doll. I'm worth every cent." She traced the outline of his lips with her tongue, before pushing her way inside his mouth. She closed her eyes while her tongue slid against his. She tried to imagine that she was kissing Raditz, but she couldn't escape the man's foul taste that nearly made her gag. She quickly pulled away and smiled wickedly up at him.

"Your place or mine?" He whispered huskily and Delia grinned in victory.

"Mine." She replied while she took him by the hand to lead him out of the smoke filled club.

Thank the gods that their hotel was only a short walk from the club, because Delia could barely stand Gervais' constant fondling. What was worse was that she had to pretend to enjoy it. After this she didn't think she would look at prostitute the same way. She couldn't imagine having to do this for a living. It was one thing to be Frieza's slave, it was quite another to willingly allow her body to be taken by any man with enough creds.

Finally they were outside her door and she tried desperately to open the lock while ignoring his roving hands that were finding their way under her bodice and up her skirt. She opened the door and they tumbled inside, Gervais laughing at their antics.

Delia kicked the door shut and pushed Gervais towards the bed that dominated the center of the room. He fell back onto it, grinning in delight. She snickered down at him as she straddled his waist, keeping him prone on the bed. He reached up to grab her breasts but she waylaid his hands, pinning them above his head while thrusting her chest into his lecherous face.

He took the proffered distraction easily and he began to root around between her breasts, grunting like a pig, never noticing as she cuffed his hands to the headboard. Once she was finished she sat up with a sigh and slid off of him disinterestedly. She sauntered casually over to an overstuffed chair that was in the corner, flopping down and kicking off her shoes to tuck her feet under her. She picked up her portable computer and began to type as though Gervais wasn't even in the room.

"Hey!" He called out angrily and tried to sit up only to realize belatedly that he was tied to the bed. "What the fuck?" He yanked on the offensive cuffs, testing his strength against cold steel.

His attention was torn away from Delia as the door to the adjoining room opened up to reveal Bulma. She was dressed in one of her blue business suites and had her trademark white lab coat draped over it. He instantly recognized her as a scientist and he began to sweat with unease. Doctors made him nervous. Behind her he could see a small lab kit set up on the dresser in the other room, the Bunsen burner still flaming under a boiling test tube. In her hands she carried a silver medical tray and when she set it on the nightstand he noticed that there were two syringes. One filled with clear liquid and the other one with a pale blue fluid.

"Who the fuck are you?" Gervais' panicked eyes darted around the room, dread multiplying in him ten fold.

Bulma ignored him as she rolled up his sleeve and swabbed an area at the crook of his elbow.

"Hey!" He bellowed and he began to buck around on the bed when he saw her grab the clear syringe. "What the hell do you think you are doing?" She planted her knee roughly in his armpit, pinching a nerve and nailing his arm to the bed. His questions went unanswered as Bulma plunged the needle into his arm, uncaring if she hurt him while she injected the fluid into his vein.

He felt the burn of the serum entering his body and a small prick of blood appeared as she withdrew the needle.

"Goddammit! What the fuck? Let me go right now you bitches! I'm going to fucking kill you!" He screamed at the top of his lungs as he glared murderously at the two viperous women who had him trapped in their lair. Bulma calmly put the needle back on the tray and looked him over.

"Capri Gervais." She stated coolly and her icy tones washed over him, dosing his anger while fanning his panic. He looked at her with wide eyes, his fear apparent in the whites of his eyes.

"What did you just do to me? When I get out of here you are seriously going to regret this!" He threatened, but fear urged his voice to an unmanly pitch.

"It is very important that you listen to me now. Are you listening?" She questioned quietly, the cadence of her voice threatening just by its sheer calmness. He nodded slowly and he watched as she destroyed his world with a few simple words. "I just injected you with the Plantankian Plague."

Gervais turned as white as the sheet he was laying on and his breathing stuttered to a stop before it jumpstarted into panicked pants. The Plantankian Plague was as deadly as it was painful. It ate its victims from the inside out, leaving them nothing but mindless writhing, living corpses of agony that begged to die.

"You're lying." He stuttered in denial.

Bulma gifted him with a condescending smile that chilled his blood. "I could be. Are you willing to take the risk?"

He struggled to reply, but his bravado was lost to his overwhelming panic. He keened a high pitched wail that emanated from the back of this throat and vibrated through his body. Delia looked up from her computer and frowned before going back to what she was doing. Bulma sighed and picked up the blue syringe.

"Are you listening to me Capri Gervais?"

Her softly spoken words pierced his panic and he looked over at her again. His eyes glittering with unshed tears followed the syringe as she waved it back and forth in front of him.

"I have the cure. But if you don't receive it in within twenty-four hours you will die." Bulma paused a moment catching his eyes with hers. "Do you understand what I am saying to you Gervais?"

He nodded slowly, never taking his eyes from hers. He swallowed convulsively and continued to listen to the woman that held his life in her hands.

"Good. This is how it's going to work. You are going to make a call for us and set up a meeting. Failure to do so will mean your death. I only have one dose of the antidote. If you disappoint us in anyway, we will destroy it. If you attack us, we will destroy it. Do you understand?"

He nodded again, tears running down his temples and into his short hair. Bulma sighed deeply.

"Do you understand? A verbal response is required."

Gervais swallowed before answering. "Yes, I understand." His voice was weak and broken and both the women resisted the urge to roll their eyes at the pathetic man before them. "Who do you want me to call?"

Delia stood up from her chair and walked over to the bed. She sat the lap top on his chest, facing her so she could type in the code he gave her.

"Saffron. Audio only."

Gervais choked on his tongue and his eyes darted from Delia's hard lavender gaze to Bulma's icy countenance. Bulma waved the syringe and Gervais cringed.

"Okay." The frightened man agreed certain that a death by Saffron's hand would be less painful than dying from the plague.


	11. Love's Requiem

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, but for some reason I get some sort of twisted pleasure out of messing with Vegeta's mind.

Special thanks to LisaB who has agreed to be my beta, which is no small task. Hopefully, this will result in a more pleasurable reading experience for all. Thank you so much Lisa.

Chapter Eleven

Love's Requiem

He stretched out his solid frame, sliding his body against the silken flesh of the woman beneath him. He wound her long hair around his fist, inhaling her lavender scent, but not deeply enough to catch her actual female odor. He only wanted to smell the oil that he had made her rub onto her skin.

His strong teeth nipped at her pulse along her pale neck, grinning as he felt her shiver against him. Her dainty hands wrapped around his strong shoulders, skimming up his muscled back before digging into his hair at his scalp. He almost purred when he felt her tiny nails scrap along his skull, sliding his hair between her fingers. She always liked his hair.

He kissed his way down her collar bone, growling in pleasure as her breasts heaved with her every breath. His tail slid around her thigh, pulling up her knee to cradle his body. He laved her pert nipple with his tongue, ignoring the subtle taste that his senses rejected as wrong.

"Yah, lover, that feels good," the woman moaned beneath him and he felt his irritation flare. He shushed her harshly without looking up from his feast and allowed his hands to trail down her ribs to cup her hips.

Her thighs widened and he nudged his hardened flesh against her opening. His lust clamored at him, demanding that he sate himself on the willing woman pinned beneath him, urging him to give into the need for a satisfying fuck. He could feel her wet heat calling out to him, beckoning him to drive home, but the lingering sense of unease held him.

"Oh, baby, don't tease me." She writhed beneath him, and he could no longer control the anger that raged inside of him.

He reared back, wrapping his fist around her blonde hair far less gently then he had just seconds ago.

"Didn't I tell you to shut the fuck up?" Raditz snarled at the shocked woman under him, finally looking at her face. He felt disappointment, rage and loneliness howl up from his darkened soul as he glared down at the palace slut. He could have her douse herself in lavender, he could refuse to look at her countenance, but when she spoke the spell was broken. This woman would never be Delia.

The woman cowered beneath him, and for a moment Raditz thought he could use her as a different kind of substitute. Not as a way to slake his lust, but to relieve himself of his infectious anger. Perhaps killing her would make him feel better. His fist tightened and his black thoughts swirled so loudly in his head that he almost didn't hear the soft knocking at his door. He turned his head in time to see the heavy door swing open slowly, and a small voice called out.

"Master Raditz?"

Raditz's eyes widened, and he reacted on instinct. He swept the woman off the opposite end of the bed, not even flinching when she hit the ground with a thud.

"Don't move," he threatened and the woman became as still as stone, out of sight from the intruder. Raditz wrapped a pale ivory satin sheet around his waist, his bare chest contrasting darkly with the linen as his skin gleamed in the pale lamplight. His feet hit the floor on his side of the bed just as the door finished opening.

"Master Raditz?"

In the archway, backlit by the low lights in the sitting room, stood young Jarrell, still in his tiny pajamas and clutching a stuffed toy.

Raditz scowled at the sight, uncertain why the child would venture to his rooms in the middle of the night.

"What are you doing here, kid?" Although he was annoyed, he managed to keep his voice even, not wanting to scare the boy, but not really knowing why.

The young boy shifted from one foot to the other, staring steadfastly at the ground. He was obviously nervous and was probably regretting his late night decision to seek out the older man. He took a couple of more steps into the room, and Raditz raised an eyebrow at the kid's resolve. Jarrell reminded him so much of Delia at that moment that he had to violently stuff down his anger and, strangely, his affection.

"I miss mama," the child murmured into the soft fur of his stuffed doll, but Raditz's keen Saiyan hearing didn't miss a word. Recognition and shock hit Raditz with the force of a ki blast. The same loneliness that Jarrell was feeling slithered down his spine and no matter how much he fought it, he could not purge his body and heart of the emotion. He was struck with the urge to answer the boy with a simple, 'me too', but he kept his lips sealed.

The boy continued to stand there, still afraid to look him in the eye. Raditz nearly growled with impatience, unable to understand what the kid wanted from him exactly.

"So what? What are you doing here?" He spat out the question with more force than he meant to, and the child seemed to wilt under his fiery gaze.

Jarrell plucked at the fur on the doll and swirled the toes of his left foot in the thick carpet. "Mama said if I ever needed anything that I should come to you. She said that you would take care of me while she was gone."

If Raditz thought he was shocked before, then he wasn't nearly prepared for the astonishment that flooded him after the boy's innocent statements. Delia had told the child that he would take care of him? He knew that for all her quiet ways, his beautiful one was an amazing, intelligent woman. He was angry that she had left him, but he was enraged that she had gone knowing that it would mean her death. She had willingly left, knowing that in the end he would be abandoned, unable to follow her into the eternal night--the final escape from his touch.

Delia had known all of this and still she had told young Jarrell that Raditz would be the one to go to if he needed anything. That he would be the one to protect him, to care for him…to raise him? Is that what she intended? She was willing to leave the fragile existence of her son to the man who would more than likely end her life? Raditz had no doubt that if she dared to come back to the palace, he would be ordered by his Prince to kill her, and this time he could not, would not, disobey.

His silence as he examined his disjointed thoughts allowed Jarrell to sneak a few steps closer to the man from whom he sought comfort. All the other children were afraid of the fearsome warrior. In fact, they were afraid of all of the Saiyans. His nursemaid warned him away from Master Raditz, but he ignored her pleas. The only contact he really had with the warrior was when Raditz would silently take him aside to train. Jarrell didn't know why he chose to single him out from the others, but he was thrilled by the attention. Master Raditz's dark eyes would bore into him, demanding that he give all of himself to learning the art of self defense. He was a stern master, but Jarrell didn't fear him. His mother trusted him and instinct told him to run to him.

Jarrell's movements roused Raditz from his dark thoughts and he pinned the boy to the floor where he stood with unforgiving eyes. "So what is it that you need, brat?" Raditz's voice was rough with emotion and small lines of concern formed on his brow. It wouldn't do to show any sort of feelings, especially around the child.

Instead of answering, the boy shuffled forward, closing the distance between him and the towering man who sat on the bed. Raditz watched with a sort of stunned awe as the kid clambered up onto his knee to sit on his lap, completely ignoring the stiff set to the man's shoulders. Raditz twisted his neck to look down as Jarrell rested his head tiredly against his shoulder, sighing deeply with contentment.

Raditz didn't move a muscle as the boy settled himself on his lap. Frankly, he was far out of his element and had no idea what to do. His first instinct was to stand up and dump the kid on the floor--such a show of affection was unacceptable! Yet it felt…nice. For the first time in weeks, Raditz muscles began to loosen and he felt something crack in his icy heart. The boy had walked down a twisted path of shadowy corridors to his rooms in the middle of the night, just to get a hug from him. Something raw and painful clawed its way up Raditz's throat, and he had to swallow hard to push it back down again.

Instead of wrapping his muscular arms around the boy like he wanted, he opted to do the next best thing. Talk to him.

"What's this?" Raditz poked a thick, battle-callused finger at the toy the boy was holding.

The boy clutched the doll closer to his chest as if he was afraid Raditz was going to snatch it out of his grasp. "It's Mister Bonkers," Jarrell whispered into the fur of the doll that look like a Girallon, a large brainless beast that was similar to a gorilla, but with four arms and gray fur.

"It is unbecoming of a warrior to have a doll, much less carry it around with you," Raditz stated with a great deal less heat than he intended. He should tear the toy right out of the boy's hand and toss it in the nearest incinerator. No boy of his was going to be wandering around the palace halls with a dollie in his arms.

Jarrell's lip protruded into a quivering pout as he scrunched up his features. "It's not a doll; it's an action figure."

Raditz cocked a disbelieving eyebrow, and Jarrell frowned back defiantly. Finally the child conceded and looked away, but not before Raditz saw the sorrow pooling in his light eyes. "But mama gave it too me."

As his sad voice wrapped its way around his heart, Raditz decided to relent for now, but he would be sure to convince the child later to leave behind his past and look to the future. For now, it was the only way that he could see to lessen the pain that was sure to come.

"Whatever. You need to get back to you rooms." Raditz looked away, focusing on some unseen spot on the carpet.

"Aww, but Master Raditz, can't I stay with you?" the boy pleaded up at the distant man.

"No." Raditz's one word reply was sharp and crisp.

When the silence had stretched on seemingly forever, he finally turned his head to look down at the child. Jarrell was still perched on his lap, his doll now hanging limply from his fingers between his knees. His head was bent until his small chin nearly touched his chest and his shoulders were slumped in dejection.

"But I will walk you back." Raditz didn't know what possessed him to offer to do that, but the smile the boy presented him was truly worth it. He looked so much like his mother that it made Raditz's heart ache.

Instead of pushing the kid to the ground like he should have, he found himself gathering him up in his strong embrace. With one hand he secured the sheets around his waist, not even bothering to look around for some pants. Silently he acknowledged that he didn't want to put the boy down long enough to get dressed. He strode towards the door, Jarrell nestled trustingly in his arms, leaving the forgotten whore alone to find her own way out.

The two guards stood stoically outside the doors to the throne room on their Lord's flagship that were slightly ajar. They ignored the yelling and screaming taking place inside and instead focused their cool eyes forward, looking for any intruders that might disrupt their Sire.

They snapped to attention when a form appeared out of the shadows of the hall, but they instantly relaxed when they recognized the familiar red shirt of a courier. One of the guards greeted the man casually.

"What's up, Frank?"

"Not a whole lot, Sam," the newcomer replied. "Is Lord Vegeta here? I know it's the middle of the night, but I stopped by his quarters first, and he wasn't there."

"Yah, he's inside." The guard jerked his thumb over his shoulder indicating that the Emperor was indeed inside the throne room.

Frank peered past the guards to look inside the room in time to see Vegeta stalk by with an angry snarl twisting his lips.

"_Shut up!" _

The demand could be heard all the way into the hall and the new man stepped back, but the two guards remained motionless, quite used to such outburst from their leader.

"I have a missive for the Emperor. Is he busy?"

The two guards shrugged. "I guess it depends on how important the message is," the other guard said.

Frank winced. "That bad, huh?" Both guards nodded in agreement, their aggrieved faces expressing their mutual pain.

"Boy, has he been wound up lately. I mean, Frieza was never this bad." The words slipped out before Frank could censor them. He looked to see if he had offended the two soldiers, but they were nodding in silent agreement.

Bolstered by their reactions, Frank added, "I don't think the Aurturians even did anything wrong. Their planet just happened to be on the way."

All three men grimaced at the memory of the destruction wrought only the day before. Lord Vegeta had given the order for them to orbit the lush world and watched as waves of men razed the planet until nothing was left, the entire time ignoring the pleas of the Aurturian leaders that rang out in the background.

Although the soldiers had been steeped in blood lust and destruction while serving under Frieza's command, they had always been secure in the knowledge that the lizard did things for a reason, not because he had an itch to see innocent blood spilt on the ground. As far as the three men knew, the other soldiers felt the same way. Everyone wished that the soft voice of the blue-haired beauty was there to tame the wild beast that had become their leader.

"_I don't want to hear another word out of you."_

All three men jumped at the snarl that echoed from the throne room. They snapped to attention, mistakenly thinking for a moment that their Emperor had overheard their complaints.

Once they realized that Vegeta wasn't talking to them, they settled down into an uncomfortable silence, occasionally glancing nervously over their shoulders. Finally, Frank spoke again, hoping against hope that their Emperor could be saved from the madness that was overtaking him.

"Has anyone tried getting him a woman?"

The two guards exchanged identical looks of dread.

Sam was the first to reply. "Yah, Ed tried that last week."

"He brought in a real sweet piece from the Ep-ta-ian sector," the other guard chimed in.

When they didn't say more Frank swept their faces, looking for more clues. "So, what happened?"

"He fried them both on the spot."

The reply had no inflection of any kind; it was just a statement of fact. Frank felt icy fingers of dread playing with his insides.

"Zarbon uses a little bit more finesse. He hand picks beauties to wait on Lord Vegeta with the hopes of one catching his eye."

"Has one?" Frank asked hopefully.

Sam shook his head sorrowfully. "I don't think he even sees them. They are nothing more than dirt under his feet to him."

"_I have had it with you! If I hear another word out of your putrid mouth I'm going to crack your skull open and paint your brains on the wall."_

The enraged howl echoed out of the room and into the hall, but this time no one jumped. Instead they all turned to glance inside, seeing only their furious Emperor pacing back and forth.

Frank winced, knowing that he was going to have to enter the room soon and interrupt his Lord in order to deliver his message. "So who's in there with him?" His sympathy for the poor schmuck stuck in there showed on his face.

He was still peering past the guard's shoulders, trying to get a glimpse of his lord's victim, when he realized that his query was met with deafening silence. He stepped back to look at their faces, noticing that they had taken on oddly tight expressions. He waited expectantly for their reply, dread making him unwilling to ask again.

Finally Sam broke and he whispered, "No one."

Frank pulled back sharply, inhaling deeply through his nose, fear twisting in the pit of his stomach like snakes.

"W-what?" he asked, certain that he must have misheard, but that didn't stop the blood from rushing from his face, leaving him ghost white.

"No one is in there with him," Sam repeated with conviction and Frank had no doubt that he was telling the truth.

_"I hate you. I hate you all."_

__The guttural scream shook the room and Frank peered inside with new understanding. He clutched the missive in his hand and wiped his sweat-beaded brow with his forearm. Silently, he weighed his options. He could slip away and wait for a more appropriate time to present the missive to his master or he could do it now. He had the unsettling feeling that there would never be a good time when it came to the Emperor. Running away would do him no good. There was nothing worse than being branded a cowered by your fellow soldiers. It was do or die and nothing in between.

Both guards looked at him, pity for him showing deeply on their engraved faces.

"It's my duty, right?" Frank asked and the guards nodded back with sad understanding.

Frank shook both their hands, muttering a few words of goodbye that the guards reciprocated. Bravely he squared his shoulders and stepped forward to push open the already cracked doors.

"Lord Vegeta," he intoned as he bowed deeply before his master.

"What do you want, worm?" Vegeta hissed.

_"Tsk, tsk. Is that anyway to talk to your underling?"_

Vegeta glanced back over his shoulder to glare at the mounted head of Frieza that was leering at him from above his throne. Gathering together his control, (something that was sadly lacking these last few weeks,) he ignored the lizard and concentrated on the soldier instead.

"I have a missive for you," Frank choked out. His eyes darted to and fro under the shadow of his brow, desperately looking for someone else in the room. He didn't want to believe that his Lord and Master was completely insane.

Vegeta sighed impatiently, the palm of his hand itching with the need to blast the grunt into the next dimension. "Well, who is it from, you idiot?" he growled venomously.

"King Cold, Sire."

A deep, manly laugh rose up from behind Vegeta and the Emperor felt his shoulders tense.

_"Looks like daddy wants to meet the man who murdered his baby boy."_

Vegeta whipped around, snarling with deadly promise at the blonde haired man who lounged disrespectfully on his throne, one leg thrown over the armrest while he indulged in some fruit from a nearby bowl. Vegeta had hated him when he had headed up the Freine Resistance Core. The man who had captured and tortured him. The man who had ordered Bulma's death.

_"Oh come now, Rio'Kan. It's not like that. Papa just wants to meet the heir to my throne. The newest, deadliest tyrant in the universe,"_ Frieza chortled down at the man who sat beneath him.

"I thought I told you both to _shut up_!" Vegeta screeched, his eyes rimmed with red.

Frank shook as his lord whipped around and stalked up to him to snatch the letter from his limp hand. He glanced longingly back at the door, wishing that he could leave without being dismissed. He watched with dread as the volatile Emperor ripped open the missive and scanned the contents.

_"So what does papa have to say, my boy?"_ Frieza asked slyly, his ruby eyes gleaming with sadistic relish.

For a moment Vegeta felt the light of goodness ignite within him. In his hand he had a chance. A chance to piece back together his broken family, but the thought was quickly swept away as the hatred rose back up inside of him. "I'm not 'your boy' anymore, and it's none of your business, lizard," Vegeta snapped as he crumpled the parchment in his fist.

_"Oh come now, Vegeta, don't be such a spoil sport," _Rio'Kan enticed, laughter teasing his lips into a delighted grin.

Vegeta glared at the lanky man, but his reply was swallowed when he heard a slight cough behind him. He turned to sneer at the lackey that still stood in the center of the room.

"What?" he growled.

"I was just wondering if you had a reply that needed delivering." Frank fought not to break down and pee his pants in front of the crazed man. He wanted desperately to escape the room and its oppressive atmosphere of lunacy.

"No," was Vegeta's disinterested reply, followed by Frank's choked protests.

A bright light flared out into the hall and the two guards remained motionless, the minutes passing before Sam chose to comment.

"Frank was a good guy."

"Yah," was his companion's reply.

"I'm going to miss him."

A/N: I know that I used normal earth names for the guards in this scene. I could have plunked myself down and wracked my brain for some wacky alien name, but I'm not sure that would have gotten the point across that I wanted to make.

I wanted to emphasis that these were just some everyday schmoes that were gathered around the water cooler discussing their asshole boss. Their worries are just a little deeper than having to file that pesky report by Friday.

Besides I have always felt bad for the poor underling that had to go and deliver the bad news to his evil boss.


	12. Saffron

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ.

Many thanks to LisaB and her wonderful editing skills. Without her I wouldn't know what a indirect statement was.

Chapter Twelve

Saffron

Bulma pushed the sweating man inside the spacious room, ignoring him as he stumbled over his own feet. Her sapphire eyes instantly swept the interior, taking in the plush red carpet, littered with a rainbow of comfortable looking pillows. A huge, four-poster bed dominated the back of the room, and Bulma narrowed her eyes, unable to see passed the yards of sheer, gauzy material that it was draped in.

Finally, her gaze settled on the biggest man she had possibly ever seen. He was as tall as Nappa, but nearly double in width. He could barely cross his arms over his heavily muscled chest that was bare to the evening breeze drifting in from the open balcony. He wore a pair of loose white pants that contrasted sharply with his ebony skin. He was so dark that he was almost lost in the shadows, only the gleam of moonlight on his bare skull, and the menacing flash of teeth let her know where to look.

His imposing presence didn't distract Bulma from noticing the wickedly curved sword that was strapped to his hip, however, and she was thankful for the reassuring weight of her own weapons hugging her thighs.

"You brought guests, Gervais. How thoughtful." The man's deep voice rumbled out from his chest, the timber anything but comforting.

Gervais wiped his sweating face with his already damp handkerchief. Bulma wondered if he was nervous about bringing them there or if his weak psyche had already convinced him that he was feeling the effects of the plague. She fought the urge to smirk evilly at the man, knowing full well that he couldn't possibly be feeling anything but slight nausea from defying his master.

"Y-yes. I'm so sorry. I…" The man rambled on, his words muffled in his chest as he bowed and scraped in apology. Bulma crinkled her nose at the display, deciding that she had enough of the man.

"Here. Now get out." She flipped the antidote to Gervais nonchalantly. He fumbled at first, nearly dropping the needle before cradling it gingerly between his fingers as if it were as precious as a newborn babe.

The man's eyes narrowed, and his heavy but silky voice rolled over them again. "We'll be seeing you, Gervais." The scared man made a quick exit, uncaring if he died later by the hands of slaver king as long as he wasn't in the grip of the painful plague.

Bulma stepped forward, and the huge man's eyes scraped down her frame, taking in the twin pulse pistols that were holstered on her hips, his stoic expression unchanging. Bulma schooled her own delicate features into a cold, unforgiving mask, something she had learned long ago from Vegeta.

She saw a flash of gold from the corner of her eye as Delia stepped in place beside her. Both women were dressed in clothing that lent them easy movement, and more importantly, they were armed to the teeth. Delia wore a loose gold shirt that was tucked into a pair of black pants. Around her waist she also had a pair of pistols, and Bulma had been shocked earlier when the woman had confirmed that she did indeed know how to use them.

Bulma herself choose to wear a tight, dark blue cat suit that was eerily reminiscent of Vegeta's training armor. Although her weapons gave her a measure of assurance, it was her outfit that gave her the confidence she needed to muscle her way through this. When it came to intimidation, she knew of only one master, and she would use all her skills available to imitate him.

The man was eyeing her as if she were a pest that he was going to have to squash sooner or later, and Bulma decided it was time to show some backbone. She squared her shoulders and gave the man the coolest, haughtiest look she could muster. She reached down and grasped her gun, but not withdrawing it from her holster, making her intentions boldly clear. She would start shooting if she wasn't satisfied with the outcome of this meeting. Much to her chagrin, the man only smiled coolly at her, not in the least intimidated by her silent threat.

"I'm Bulma Briefs. I believe that you have---"

"I know who you are." A soft, murmuring voice cut Bulma off in mid-sentence.

Bulma paused; her attention snapped to the large bed that was nestled in the shadows. She heard the rustling of linens as she watched a willowy shadow languidly rise from the bed and part the pale yellow hangings. A beautiful woman appeared, her skin the color of warm chocolate, her eyes a startling shade of ultraviolet. Her white hair was braided back in cornrows, but the ends were left loose to fall to her waist in sheet of thick, frothy curls.

Bulma took all this in with a quick glance, most importantly ascertaining that the woman was not armed. Her blue eyes darted back to the man who still stood silently, never moving as the woman approached to place her hand on his shoulder. With her other hand she reached out to pick up a jeweled goblet from a nearby table.

Bulma's brow furrowed, but this new hiccup did nothing to disrupt her from her path of finding Trunks.

"I'm here to talk to Saffron," Bulma demanded.

The woman turned gracefully to face her, slowly taking a sip from her goblet before replying. "I am Saffron."

Bulma's eyes darted to the big man in confusion. "I thought Saffron was a man?"

"I find that pretending to be a man makes business so much easier, especially when dealing with chauvinistic cutthroats. Don't you agree?" The woman's voice was as smooth as warm honey, coaxing one to forget about the poisonous sting that she surely carried.

Bulma smirked in reply, completely understanding the vulgarities of having to deal with men who resented females in authority. Her smile melted off her face as she thought about what the woman had said earlier.

"How did you know who I am?" Bulma snapped, her icy eyes narrowing in warning.

The woman threw back her head and laughed softly, her vibrant eyes dancing. "Why everyone knows of the blue-haired beauty who tamed the Dark Prince to her touch and then set him loose on the universe."

Bulma swallowed hard at Saffron's words, guilt rising up to swamp her. "I didn't turn him loose," she whispered, and for the first time she looked away to glance at the ground.

Saffron tsked at her as she swirled the liquid in her cup. "You might as well have," the woman said softly and Bulma felt her skin crawl.

Inhaling deeply and straightening her stance, Bulma said, "It's of no matter to you, wench. If you know who I am then you know why I am here."

Saffron sighed and leaned back against the table. She placed her goblet down before crossing her arms to glare at the other woman. The time for games had passed. It was time to do business.

"Yes, everyone has heard of your unnatural obsession with a purple-haired boy who has a tail."

Bulma's blue eyes narrowed and her mouth twisted into a snarl. "I know you have him. You will give him back to me, bitch."

Saffron's own eyes narrowed at the insult, but she chose to ignore it for the moment.

"Why is he so important to you?" she asked instead.

Bulma refused to answer, and Saffron's sharp eyes roved over her face, taking in her delicate features. Suddenly, comprehension and horror dawned in her veiled eyes.

"He's yours and Vegeta's son, isn't he?" she questioned in awe, stunned at the revelation. Since no one had known about the birth of Trunks, the universe was unaware that there was an heir to the throne drifting about unprotected.

"Like I said, it's none of your concern. Now hand him over," Bulma demanded, her hand tightening threateningly on her gun.

For the first time, the overly confident woman showed signs of unease, the knowledge of what she had done ripping through her like a tornado.

"I don't have him," she admitted, her face pale.

Bulma pulled her pistol from her holster, pointing the gun at the woman's heart. "Don't lie to me! I know you have him. Give him over to me this instant or I will blow a hole right through you."

Delia quickly followed suit, aiming her own weapon as well. Neither felt any compunction at killing. They had been raised on death, lived it, breathed it, had bathed in it. Bulma had killed many in her headlong quest for survival in Frieza's court, and Delia had dreamed of murder so intimately that it was practically a lover to her.

The mountainous man leapt in front of Saffron, spreading his arms wide. Surprisingly, he didn't attack, and Bulma could only surmise that he hadn't been ordered to do so yet. His stone face was unchanging, and Delia felt a small amount of trepidation that the man wasn't afraid to be hit by a pulse beam. Bulma ignored this fact as she took another step forward.

Saffron shifted to the side, holding the man at bay as he leaned in close to shield her. Her face was cold and detached, but Bulma was put off at the lingering sadness that reflected in her inhuman eyes.

"I told you, I don't have him," she repeated, and Bulma had to face the possibility that she wasn't lying. She tried to tell herself that it was going to be alright. If someone else had Trunks then she would just broker a deal to buy him back, as simple as that.

"Where is he?"

"I sold him," Saffron said.

Bulma snarled with impatience. "To who?"

Saffron tensed, and she threw a worried look over at her companion. He shrugged, his massive body shifting the air around him.

Bulma's eyes narrowed, and she white knuckled the gun in her hand. "Who did you sell him to, Saffron?" she demanded in a soft menacing whisper.

Saffron swallowed, and Bulma could see genuine regret in her eyes. "I sold him to King Cold." At Bulma swift intake of breath, she hastened to explain herself. "Please understand, I had no idea who the boy was, and the King's agent offered a great deal of money for him. I thought it was because he was so unnaturally strong, but…" Saffron's eyes drifted away from the distraught mother, her brow furrowing in thought. "But now I know why," she muttered, seeing the situation in a whole new light.

Bulma felt the floor crumble beneath her feet and the ceiling crash down on her, suffocating her until she could no longer draw breath. King Cold had her baby. It was her worst fear come to life. A tyrant had her son, and at this very moment, he was torturing him, like Frieza had done to Vegeta. Tears welled up in her blue eyes at the thought of her child, lost and alone, in the court of the reptile that had raised Frieza to be the sadistic monster that he had been.

The other occupants in the room respectfully looked elsewhere, uncomfortable as Bulma collapsed on the floor in a flurry of choked sobs. Delia glanced worriedly down at her mistress, torn between the duty to hold the gun on their enemies, and the need to soothe her friend's distress. Eventually, Bulma's sobs drifted away, and she rubbed her gritty eyes on the back of her arm. She didn't have time to sit here and feel sorry for herself; she had work to do.

She picked herself up from the floor, sheathing her weapon at the same time. She didn't look at the slaver queen as she turned towards the door. Delia gave Saffron one last worried look before she too holstered her gun, following her mistress.

"Where are you going?" Saffron's normally dulcet tones rang out in a distressed pitch.

Bulma paused at the door, her hand on the door knob. She refused to turn around, but she answered the woman anyway.

"To Cold's domain."

"You can't honestly expect to waltz right into Cold's court and whisk away your son, do you?" Saffron demanded.

Bulma whirled around, an enraged snarl on her lips. "What's it to you?" she hissed.

Saffron was taken aback by the pure hatred that blazed in the woman's bloodshot eyes. Her tear stained face was twisted into a mask of fury and agony that would wring anyone's heart.

"The only way anyone gets into Cold's palace is if they are a fighter." Her violet gaze skimmed down both women's bodies. It was obvious to anyone that they were in no way accomplished warriors. "Or as a servant."

Bulma dismissed her words with a wave of her hand. "Then I will go as a servant."

"The most beautiful of which, male or female, are made into pleasure slaves. Come now Bulma, I'm sure you know how that works?" Saffron purred, sending waves of disgust down both women's spines as they remembered their time under Frieza's rule.

Bulma full lips thinned, and she strengthened her resolve with the fact that she would do anything to save her child.

"Then it must be done." Bulma turned back towards the door, intending to leave for sure this time.

Saffron was impressed by the strength that carried the woman. She had never seen someone so dedicated to one cause, so much so that she was willing to sacrifice anything to obtain her goal---the safety of her child.

Saffron silently wished that there had been someone like Bulma to retrieve her as a child. She too had been stolen and sold into slavery at a young age, but she had no determined mother to fetch her back. So instead, she had learned to survive, fighting and clawing her way to the top, where she fully intended to stay.

Being a powerful woman in a universe ruled by males was no easy feat, and when she saw another female struggling for dominance, she applauded her courage. First and foremost, however, Saffron saw to her own welfare, and if that meant manipulating the most influential woman in the universe, then so be it.

"I can help you. Or rather I know someone who can."

Bulma stilled at Saffron's words. She turned slowly, her narrow gaze barely disguising her shock.

"Why would you do that?" she asked.

Saffron shrugged, unwilling to answer the question. Then she sighed deeply, waving her hand dismissively in front of her.

"Well, I surely don't want to be here if Lord Vegeta finds out that I sent his female off to play court whore for his enemy."

Bulma smiled sardonically at her words. "What makes you think he holds me in such great esteem?"

Saffron met Bulma's eyes and replied with equal intensity, making sure that the woman heard every syllable.

"What makes you think that he doesn't?"

Bulma looked away, and Saffron could see more pain heap itself on the already struggling woman. She sighed again, wishing that she was anywhere but here, having this particular conversation with the Empress of the Universe.

"Besides, we women have to stick together if we are going to stay in power, whether we are ruling a simple household or a kingdom. I would expect that in the future that my assistance would be remembered."

Bulma's lips curled into a tight smile, and she nodded her head in agreement. In exchange for her help, the slaver queen may ask the Empress for a favor in the future. Not a bad arrangement for Saffron for something as simple as a little help. Bulma allowed the tension in her neck and shoulders to release as she stepped forward to hear the rest of the woman's plan.

Two hours later found Bulma and Delia at the last place they ever expected to be, the headquarters of the ruthless Red Ribbon mercenary group. Bulma had contacted them via a third party almost two years ago, when Vegeta had been captured by the Resistance Core, but she had never expected to meet them in person. They had been formally introduced by Saffron, and the woman's words seemed to be law, even for the lawless band. Saffron explained that they owed her a great deal for the sanctuary that they found inside the borders of her domain. After all, they were wanted by more relentless hunters than the government.

A gangly old man trotted up to Bulma, a sly smile that made her nervous tugging at his lips. His face was weathered, his moustache and hair white with age. He circled her with one hand tucked behind his back while he poked her with his finger.

"Yes, yes. You must be human. Yes, so long since I have seen a fellow human," he muttered to himself, not bothering to involve her in his ramblings. Bulma's eyes widened at his words, and she twisted her neck around to really look at him. It had been ages since she had seen another human, and she had almost forgotten what they looked like. She knew that some of her own kind still lived, but they were so few, scattered around the universe like dust in the wind.

"Beautiful. You'd make an excellent android." He paused, running his finger across his lower lip. "No, no. Clone. Yes, I could clone you. You would make me such a nice profit. With your beauty I could sell you to brothel houses---" His words stopped as the cold nozzle of Bulma's pistol fitted against his temple. The only thing heard in the suddenly silent room was the high-pitched charge of the plasma in the chamber. She extended her arm, forcing him to back up until he was the limb's length away.

The man shot a look to the side, glaring at two youths who lounged on a nearby couch. The dark haired male had an expressionless look to his face, yet still managed to appear sardonic. The blonde female ignored the whole fiasco and was instead examining her expertly manicured nails for any speck of dirt that may have found its way underneath.

"Are you two just going to sit there?" the old man spat.

The two exchanged identical looks before immediately standing, their arms loosely hanging by their sides. The sardonic look on the boy's face became more pronounced, and the old man snarled at their mocking display.

As they rose, Bulma glanced over at them, wondering if they were the ones who had rescued Vegeta from his prison, so long ago. She knew that the Resistance used ki-suppressing technology and it stood to reason that sending in the androids would have been the best solution to that problem.

They peered back at her, their expressionless eyes giving no indication that they knew who she was. She had the feeling that even if they did know her, they would never allow recognition to flicker across their faces. That would only serve to discredit their deadly reputations as remorseless assassins.

Bulma shivered a the thought of them stalking her in the dead of night, soundless, ki-less and completely emotionless---programmed to maim and kill, never to show mercy.

Before Gero could demand that his androids do something more, Bulma quickly holstered her gun, her hard gaze capturing the man's attention.

"Look, Dr. Gero. You know why we are here, so lets stop fucking around and get down to business," she spat and from the corner of her eye she saw the two androids sit down nonchalantly. The man's eyes took on a sly glint, and he immediately forgot her earlier behavior as he rubbed his hands together.

"Yes, yes. You have the money I presume?" he questioned.

Bulma sighed, producing a cred chip from her pocket. Saffron had told her that although she could introduce her to Dr. Gero and his infamous androids, any services rendered by them would have to be paid for by her.

"Excellent." He snatched it out of her hand, instantly pocketing her chip. She opened her mouth to protest, but she just as quickly closed it. It didn't matter, it was only one of her accounts, and quite frankly she was willing to pay every last penny she had in order to save Trunks.

He scuttled into another room, leaving her and Delia to stand aimlessly in the middle of the floor. Bulma darted another look at the leisurely lounging androids, wondering if she should trail after the obviously twisted old man. Before she could make the decision to follow the doctor, he walked back into the room, holding something in his hands.

"Now, first of all we have to get inside King Cold's palace walls without drawing suspicion to ourselves. Android 17 will enter as a fighter for the arena." At the mention of his name the dark-haired boy roused himself briefly from his musings. His unnaturally bright, blue eyes settled on Bulma, leaving her feeling icy and cold, as if she had been touched by death. Bulma dragged her gaze away from his, returning her attention to Dr. Gero.

"Arena?" she questioned.

"Yes, yes. Fighters from all over the universe travel there to fight in King Cold's arena. If they survive and they please the court, then they will be rewarded richly with enough money to see their family wealthy for ten generations."

"Android 18 will go as a concubine for the King."

Bulma's eyes automatically flew to the cold woman to gage her response. Bulma saw the slightest flicker of distaste spasm across the beautiful android's face before it was stowed away as though it had never existed.

Bulma blinked, and looked back at the doctor. "Well that's great, but how do you propose that we get in?"

"You will pose as their servants, of course," Dr. Gero announced as if they were idiots for not figuring that out sooner.

Bulma's upper lip curled, baring her incisors, and she fought the urge to get out her gun to blast him. Delia gulped, shifting subtly away from her mistress, disturbed by how much Bulma reminded her of Vegeta at that moment.

"It has already been explained to us that attractive servants will become sex slaves," Bulma drawled slowly as if she was talking to small child. Dr. Gero returned her sneer with his own and held up the objects he had in his hands.

"These are Molecular DNA Recompositers." Bulma looked down at the items that looked very similar to wrist watches to her. "They are worn around the wrist and once activated, they will disguise your true form, making you appear as whatever you have programmed into the Recompositer. The transformation is so complete that it will fool a DNA scan."

Delia moved a little closer, peering down at the watches. "How long does it take to change form and then back again?"

"Only a few seconds and it's completely painless. To you it seems like nothing has changed, but in reality a tight fighting hologram has overlaid your skin and the chemicals released into your body by the Recompositer activate when scanned, giving a reading of whatever species you are imitating."

Bulma took a watch, flipping it over to examine the back. Her scientist's mind was racing a thousand miles a minute, and she couldn't resist asking, "Tell me how it works, exactly."

Five minutes later, everyone else's eyes in the room had glazed over as the Doctor and Bulma avidly discussed his invention. Tomorrow they would leave for Cold's domain, and she would be one step closer to reclaiming her child.


	13. Guess Who?

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, but I'm having Vegeta's love child, much to my husband's surprise.

Chapter Thirteen

Guess Who?

"Stop that."

The girlish demand was followed by an even more feminine giggle. Nappa chuckled at the woman he had trapped on his lap, his tail wickedly trying to sneak up her skirts.

"You are being a bad boy, Nappa, and you are going to get spanked," the woman predicted as she snatched at the tail that was far quicker than she.

"Promise?" Nappa grinned lustily at the woman, causing her to blush.

Raditz chose that moment to burst into the kitchen, startling Nappa who shot up from his chair at the table, narrowly missing dumping his treasure on the floor.

Raditz opened his mouth to relay his message to the Commander, but his jaw quickly sagged to his chest when he saw who was with Nappa.

"Ms. Geir?" he choked out, completely astonished to see Jarrell's prim and proper nursemaid, Elle Geir, being felt up by the beefy Saiyan in the open kitchen.

Elle's face flamed brilliant red, and she tried to choke out a reply.

"I, ah . . . I . . ." she gasped, incapable of explaining her behavior. Now that Nappa knew that there was no immediate threat, he took the opportunity to sneak his tail under the hem of her skirt. Her red face turned purple, and she whirled around to swat him squarely in the chest with the wooden spoon she had been holding when he swept her into his lap in the first place.

He chuckled at her antics and she huffed in reply. She turned her back on the infuriating man, stalking back up to the counter where she had been mixing some cookie dough for her youngsters. Raditz watched her go with a bemused expression on his face while Nappa stood entranced by the sway of her bottom under her skirt.

Raditz glanced back at Nappa and snapped his mouth closed, coughing discreetly to get his comrade's attention. Nappa jerked his head back towards the third class, immediately collecting himself.

"What is it, soldier?" he growled, more than a little displeased at being disrupted from what was turning out to be a fine afternoon.

"Vegeta has sent for us."

Both men felt a rush of exhilaration and more importantly, acceptance at the statement. They had remained Capital World, watching longingly as their Prince bent the universe to his will. They had no idea what had happened on Folaithe Ceo to have set their liege off, but every time he stepped into battle without them they felt their skin crawl. It was their duty to be by his side, no, their right, and they were more than a little pissed that Zarbon was with him instead of them.

"And he sent Zarbon with the message. I guess the green freak is going to have to stay here without us." Feral grins darkened both the Saiyans features as the implications of that sunk in. In their minds, Zarbon must have done something wrong, and now he was being punished.

Nappa gave Raditz a short nod that prompted the man to turn on his heel to stride out the door. Nappa glanced at Elle's back, completely missing the stiff set of her shoulders as he followed after Raditz. Elle wiped a stray tear away with the back of her hand while she continued to mix her dough.

Vegeta, Raditz, and Nappa stepped from their pods, briefly glancing around at the lush, tropical planet they had landed on. The missive that Vegeta received had requested that he meet with King Cold on a newly purged planet, near the border of their respective domains.

Vegeta felt the touch of something supernatural tickle his spine. He returned to very few planets after he had purged them, and every time he felt something sinister in the air. He had often wondered how the new inhabitants could take up residence on a world that was rife with the lingering souls of the slaughtered race, spirits that were trapped in between life and death. Their deaths were so quick and violent that their combined anger and sadness seeped into every crack and crevice, permeating the soul of the world.

The oppressive heat of the planet pressed down on Vegeta, the humidity squeezing the air from his lungs and replacing it with water. Already, he could feel the slow trickle of sweat slide down his neck, dampening his collar. He lifted his face to the sky, inhaling deeply as he scented the wind. He could taste the salty essence of a sea in a distance, and he briefly he thought of Bulma. Instinctively, he knew that she would love it on some warm world like this, far from the cold sting of their palace. He pushed his thoughts away, concentrating instead on the confrontation that was to come.

He pinpointed King Cold, and at least two men, that were about five kilometers to the west. He could feel King Cold's power like a beacon in his mind, shining bright with menacing promise. Without motioning to his men, Vegeta rose into the air, flying towards his enemy without a hint of hesitation. Raditz and Nappa exchange identical looks of dread before following close behind their liege.

Within five minutes they landed outside a large Tuscan styled structure, built from topaz colored stone. As Vegeta hit the dirt he didn't stop moving, but strode smoothly towards the entrance of the building, his mind clear and centered on his intended goal.

Although the planet had been purged recently there were no signs of bloodshed on the steps of the palace. That could only mean that the planet was in last stage of cleaning before being sold. Vegeta wracked his mind, trying to remember if he had ordered the purge or if it was a left-over from Frieza's rule.

He shook his head when the memory didn't come, and he looked to the side to ask Zarbon, certain that he would know. He met the blank gaze of Nappa, and Vegeta's eyes narrowed. He had briefly forgotten that he had sent Zarbon back to Capital World to tend to whatever business he needed. Silently he admitted to himself that he had sent Zarbon away, and requested the company of his bodyguards because he trusted no others. Vegeta knew that the merciless fist of madness was upon him, and he wanted only

unquestionably loyal men to be by his side.

He wanted them, but he also resented them. They, along with Bulma, knew what kind of man he was, who he should have been. They knew how strong and defiant he was. He was disgusted by the fact that they were witnesses to his weakness, but he would rather have them than some stranger who until recently had been his enemy.

Something sinuous tugged on the dark recesses of Vegeta's soul, a malevolent force left over from the strife the bloody purge had wrought. It called to the darkness that flowed inside of Vegeta, strengthening it with every second he was immersed in its presence. He shook it away, ignoring the call of evil.

Together the Saiyans entered the building, momentarily blinded as they stepped from the sunlight into shadows. Vegeta's onyx eyes scanned the perimeter, instantly latching onto the tall form of King Cold, flanked by two lesser warriors. Vegeta felt something spark in the back of his brain, but it was gone before he could register it fully. He disregarded it in favor of concentrating on the ruler of the Ice-jinns.

The purple-skinned lizard towered over his subordinates, his red cape sweeping the ground, and his black horns curving towards the ceiling. Vegeta curled his lip at the male that had been the sire of his worst enemy, the grandfather of his nightmares.

King Cold's black lips stretched into a jovial grin, and Vegeta felt his blood run cold. It was the same smile that Frieza would wear---right before he decimated someone's soul.

"Vegeta! I'm so glad that you could make it." King Cold's tone gave no hint that he felt anything but pleasure at seeing the Saiyan. It was as though he didn't care that Vegeta had killed his youngest son in battle.

"That's Emperor Vegeta to you," Vegeta corrected, watching carefully for any signs that the lizard might be pained by the loss of his offspring.

"Oh come now. I've known you since you were this high." King Cold measured off the distance just above his knee, his pleasant smile still in place. "Goodness, that must have been nearly twenty years ago. How time flies when you are watching children grow."

Vegeta relaxed his stance as the king finally made some sort of reference to his son. This is what he had come here for, a confrontation over Frieza. Tension stiffened his shoulders once again when he heard the man to King Cold's right cackle in response.

"Looks like not enough time has passed. He still has some growin' to do." All three men laughed at the joke, and ice formed in the black depths of Cold's eyes.

Vegeta's hands fisted at his sides, but he waited patiently for the men to quiet themselves. He would bide his time, and listen to what the old man had to say so he could throw it back into his face.

"Yes, time has passed, and Vegeta is a man now. Not the snot nosed brat that Frieza brought to court so long ago." King Cold was referring to the one and only time Vegeta had been to the Ice-jinn's domain. It hadn't been long after the destruction of his world, and he had already begun his training as a purger. He remembered that the planet was nothing more than a frozen wasteland; the royal palace and its adjacent city were built from crystalline walls of ice.

"Quit your reminiscing, old man, or is your mind so feeble with age that you can't concentrate on the here and now?" Vegeta spat, delighting in the opportunity to insult the man.

King Cold snickered in amusement and Vegeta frowned. "Yes, yes of course. I was merely going to comment that it was too bad that you will never know the pleasures of watching your children grow."

The corner of Vegeta's lips lifted as he waited for the expect bomb.

"But you just might know the pain of having them die before you," King Cold finished with evil malice, his eyes glittering with glee at the pain he expected to wring from his son's murderer.

Instead, he was stunned into silence.

Vegeta threw back his head, laughing deeply. The obscene sound bounced off the pillars in the room that supported the vaulted ceilings of the abandoned palace. After many minutes it melted away, leaving only deafening silence. Vegeta lowered his chin, his emotionless eyes meeting the king's.

His lip curled away from his ivory fangs as he opened his mouth to speak. "Cut the crap, Cold. I know you have the brat, but what you don't know is that I don't care."

King Cold blinked at the hard warrior in front of him, desperately trying to calculate if the Saiyan was using some sort of ploy against him.

"Then you won't mind if I kill him then."

Vegeta shrugged in response. "Whatever. Saiyan young are expendable. Only the strongest survive, and my son is no different. No matter what the woman says." The last sentence was mumbled under his breath, and no one but Raditz heard him. His companion shot him a hard look of understanding.

"What was that, Vegeta?" Cold asked.

"You have no idea how much trouble that kid has brought me." Vegeta met King Cold's gaze without a flicker of remorse in his dark eyes. In his mind he could practically hear Bulma screaming bloody murder, but he knew that it was only his imagination.

"Oh, I see. In that case I think I will keep him. He will make a fine addition to my own galactic force." King Cold played his trump card, the one thing that was sure to get Vegeta riled.

Instead of acting out in hot rage like expected, Vegeta merely watched Cold with an oddly penetrating gaze. The king had to fight the urge not to shift his feet as the warrior stared coldly at him before replying.

"Well, that's not going to happen."

King Cold smiled in victory, certain that he had hit a nerve with his last comment. No matter how ruthless and callous Vegeta had become, surely he would never want his son subject to the same pain and humiliation that he had been. Cold knew that it had been torture for Vegeta to be raised in Frieza's armies. Hell, he was the one who had taught his ice-ling son everything he knew, and that included how to destroy a man's soul.

"After all, he's my son," Vegeta continued and Cold grinned. "I won't leave such a powerful weapon in your hands, only to be used against me." Cold's smile diminished at Vegeta's coolly spoken words.

"You're a cold bastard, Vegeta," King Cold muttered, more than a little impressed with his son's replacement. Perhaps, Frieza had been right to groom this one as his heir.

Vegeta released a genuine grin in Cold's direction, his features darkening from the expression instead of lightening.

"Yes, I am, and that being the case, I'm just going to have to kill you. Besides, I like the idea of ruling your domain as well as mine."

At that, it was King Cold's turn to laugh, his booming amusement echoing in the empty halls and rooms of the great castle.

"Do you really think you are that strong, _Emperor_ Vegeta?" King Cold questioned jovially as he braced his fists on his hips.

"Heh." Vegeta flashed him a cocky smirk. "Frieza mocked me as well, but it seems that he was wrong and I was right."

"Humph. I'm no fledgling Ice-jinn, Saiyan trash. My pathetic peons have more power than you will ever have."

Vegeta cocked a wicked brow at the two men who flanked the King. They stood impassively, but Vegeta had no trouble reading their power levels. They were laughably weak compared to both himself and the King.

"You've got to be kidding me," Vegeta mocked and Cold rolled his eyes lazily.

"Not them." King Cold nodded to a pillar in the distance and all three Saiyans turned to look. "Him."

Lounging against the pillar stood a man, his shoulder braced on the cold stone as he watched them silently. He stood in the shadows so that all they could make out was his height and his crazy hair that struck out in odd angles.

The man straightened, stepping forward into the light as he was summoned by his master. Vegeta and Nappa frowned in consternation, while Raditz gasped in disbelief.

The prince and the commandeer recognized the male as another full grown Saiyan, the brown tail wrapped around his waist declaring his heritage loudly, but Raditz saw him as the spitting image of his father, Bardock.

"A Saiyan," Vegeta muttered absently as he watched the man approach. He was jostled out of his thoughts by King Cold's laughter.

"Yes, it seems that Frieza acquired him some years ago during a purge mission. He had been abandoned on some mudball planet, and was just a boy when Frieza gave him to me as a gift. I suspect that he didn't want to keep him for fear of having too many Saiyans banding together, but I don't mind his reasons. It was a thoughtful present. Saiyans are so useful. Wouldn't you agree, Vegeta?"

Vegeta ignored the King's taunting as his calculating gaze raked over the younger man. A slow smile spread over his full lips as he turned back to his tormenter's father.

"Yes, they are, but this one won't be able to save you from your fate. He is nothing but a third class, his power level reflects that." Vegeta snickered wickedly, and the King bristled.

"Don't be so sure. Kakarot is very talented." King Cold's conviction in his servant's skill shone brightly in his black eyes, and Vegeta felt a tiny moment of unease, but he pushed it away quickly. Doubt had no place on the battlefield.

Vegeta didn't hear the gasp that escaped Raditz at the mention of the new Saiyan's name. Raditz had thought his brother was dead, lost in space or killed by a rogue comet while traveling to the planet he had been sent to purge. He had never given a second thought to the little brother whom he had never seen.

Instead of responding to Cold's boast, Vegeta spun on his heel, charging his opponent without warning. They met in the center of the room in flurry of blows that were not meant to hurt, but to test. Each wanted to see the strength and skill of the other before revealing their own talents.

They curtailed their power, exchanging precise blows that become more and more violent. With every punch and every block the battle become more heated as the men attempted to slide past the other's defenses to make contact. Their frustrations grew when neither was successful in striking the other, and in a bold move, Vegeta gathered his hands together for a powerful ki attack.

The blinding light flashed in the dark building, bursting from his palms, and soaring across the room to slam through the far wall. The topaz marble crumbled as the blast continued to blaze away, skimming the surface of the azure waters of the ocean that was just outside of the palace. There was a faint hissing sound as the heat from the ball boiled the water and a trail of steam followed the comet to the edge of the horizon.

Vegeta scanned the room, his pupils contracting painfully from the pool of bright sunlight that now poured in from the hole in the wall. For a moment he thought that he had disintegrated his opponent, and he was disappointed at the easy victory, but at the last moment an instinctual warning flashed across his brain.

He spun to the side, trying to avoid the blow that he felt coming, but he was too slow. An iron-weighted punch landed square in the back of his neck, throwing him forward awkwardly. To save himself from landing on his face, Vegeta shot his arms forward, using his momentum for a handspring. He landed on his feet, his fists raised to meet his opponent head on.

The new Saiyan male was standing in front of him, a cocky tilt to his lips and a ready gleam in his eye.

Vegeta saw red. Without a second thought, he fisted his hands at his side, throwing his head back to gather the raw power that seethed inside of him. He reached out, touching on the rage that infected him, molding together all the hate and malevolence that coursed through his blood.

The rafters shook with the force of his primal scream, the pillars cracking under the strain. He could feel the power growing inside, twisting like snakes, snapping and hissing with poison. It felt different than it had the first time he had turned Super Saiyan---like something was missing, something vital. There was no love; only hate that lived inside of him like a malignant cancer. Hate for everyone and everything. Hate for her, for his men---and most especially, hate for himself.

Nappa's glittering eyes shot from his liege to the man who stood opposite to him. Anger writhed inside of him, fed by the sinuous breath of evil in the air. The thought of another Saiyan defying his Prince, no_, his king_, ate at him, enraging him. There were so precious few of them left, only honor and pride keeping them from complete extinction. This male should be bowing to Vegeta, swearing allegiance to his lord and banding with them to kill King Cold, not doing the Ice-jinn's bidding.

Nappa saw the male twitch, and he knew that he was going to gather his own power soon. How dare he think that he had the right to strike out at his king? How dare he defy his heritage? With a snarl of outrage, Nappa darted forward, intent on joining the fray and teaching the lowly third class his place.

Raditz's eyes snapped to Nappa, his mouth gapping open as he watched his comrade dart into battle. He could feel the power that was swelling off Vegeta, and he knew that something was terribly wrong. The malevolent force in the air was heavy and oppressive, weighing down on him like a ton of bricks. It seeped through the cracks of the palace, its glee at being called forth almost tangible. It wove its way towards Vegeta, and before Raditz horrified gaze he could see the power build inside of his lord, dark and foreboding---completely evil.

The red haze coating Vegeta's vision darkened to crimson as the power spiked through him. The golden light burst from his body, dulled by the rage that he harbored inside of his heart. His hair gleamed gold, the tips highlighted in black. His entire golden aura was shot through with tiny, black bolts of spite mixing with the sacred power. An icy wave washed over the other inhabitants in the room, chilling them to the bone.

The entity inside of Vegeta kept growing, consuming his heart until there was nothing left. It turned its heartless grasp outward, absorbing all the hate, pain and terror that had been released onto the planet when the purgers had come. The dark aura streamed into Vegeta, bulging his muscles, tearing at his skin, and staining his soul.

Unable to withstand the invasion any longer, Vegeta channeled the misbegotten power into his hands, thrusting it at his enemy. The excess power surged out of him, siphoning off to hurtle itself towards its new target.

Distantly, Vegeta saw Nappa rushing the new Saiyan, Raditz desperately trailing behind, trying to catch him. He knew that the blast would kill his comrades, but he could not call the power back to him. Deep inside, where the growing evil churned inside his soul, he felt relief pour through him. With the death of his childhood friends, there would only be one person left in the universe who truly knew what kind of man he should have been, and not what he had become.

With them gone, he would no longer be Vegeta, Prince of the Saiyans, meant to rule wisely and benevolently. Instead, he could complete his transformation into what Frieza had meant for him to be all along.

Evil incarnate.

The blast tore through the building, toppling pillars in its path and ripping up the marble floor. Kakarot was unable to dodge the fearsome attack, and could only cross his forearms protectively over his face.

The cloud of darkness engulfed the traitor squarely, the blast wide enough to envelope Nappa and Raditz as well. Screams echoed around the room, mingling with the loud thundering of the roof crumbling in. Dust billowed in the wake of the blast, and all at once, the dark interior of the palace was illuminated by sunlight as the ball escaped through the back, blowing the entire rear of the building apart.

No one moved as they absorbed the damage done by Vegeta. King Cold's mouth sagged to his chest and his subordinates' eyes bulged. They had seen many impressive displays of power, but none so tainted by rage. The lizard quickly regained himself, his attention snapping to Vegeta who stood impassively on the mostly undamaged side of the palace.

He was wreathed in a golden light, but it was trimmed with a seething darkness that made Cold uneasy. The light vibrated around him, highlighting his gleaming muscles and honed physique, but what disturbed the Ice-jinn the most was that Vegeta's face seemed to be hidden in shadow, only his malicious smirk visible.

King Cold knew what a Super Saiyan was. He knew what it looked like, what it felt like, but this was something different. He could see the power of thousands of years of Saiyan breeding pulsing inside of the prince, but something foreign had wormed its way inside, tainting the birthright. It was almost beautiful, and King Cold sighed with absent longing.

Within the cloud of debris, Raditz coughed as he tried to gather precious oxygen into his straining lungs. He was pinned under a solid marble beam, and try as he might he could not gather the strength needed to move it. He knew that he was mortally injured, and if he didn't find his way to a regeneration tank soon, he could very well die.

He turned his head to the side, opening his mouth to call Nappa, but the cry died in his throat. He met the empty gaze of his longtime friend, the spark of life long drained from him. Raditz felt sorrow well up inside, and he wondered briefly if he would soon be following Nappa to the other side. A small part of him was thankful for his death. If he died now then he couldn't be called on in the future to murder Delia for her treason, but neither would he be able to protect her.

His thoughts were broken by the sound of falling stone. He turned his head to find Kakarot standing over him. Raditz's eyes widened as the man stared stoically down at him, wordless assessing his wounds. Raditz braced himself, certain that his brother would deliver the killing blow, eliminating any possible threat that he might pose should he get free. After all, it was what he would do.

With a twitch of his tail, Kakarot turned away, leaving Raditz to gape at him. It was inconceivable to him that the Saiyan would leave him there, pinned beneath the rubble. Honor dictated that Kakarot either kill him or free him, but to leave him to die was unconscionable.

"Brother." Raditz gasped. The weight of the pillar was becoming unbearable, and the breath was being crushed from him.

Kakarot turned his head, his brow crinkling in confusion. The look was brief and his eyes were unreadable as he continued to move away, ignoring the breathless plea of the man. Just as Raditz was sure that Kakarot would disappear into the murk, his brown tail lashed out, whipping the pillar that pinned him. The topaz marble cracked, crumbling around Raditz, freeing him to take a deep breath.

Raditz inhaled deeply, still lying on his back. A few seconds later, he felt the ground rumbling beneath him and the small hairs on his body stood on end as his brother gathered his own power around him.

The others in the room felt the spike in ki as well, and their attention was ripped from Vegeta to the settling cloud. Golden light spilled out from the gray dust, blinding King Cold and his lackeys. Vegeta's gaze never flinched as he stared with predatorial intensity at the shadowy figure that was forming out of the dust.

Kakarot stepped forward, his body shrouded in light. His gold hair was swept up and his teal eyes were sharp with battle instinct. Vegeta's mouth tightened as he looked upon another full blooded Super Saiyan, and he was disgusted by the sight. The man before him had been raised by an Ice-jinn. The father of evil itself, and yet his golden power was untainted. All of his light was bright and blinding with not a hint of blackness. He was pure and that made Vegeta want to howl at the moon in rage that he wasn't the only one in the universe, that some inconsequential third class had dared to reach for what was only his by royal right.

Without warning the two males surged forward, meeting in the center of the room with a combination of furious blows. The power unleashed from their collision, exploded throughout the room, busting most of the remaining pillars, and nearly blowing King Cold off his feet.

He and his subordinates beat a hasty retreat as the building began to waver, standing quite literally on its last legs. In concert, Vegeta and Kakarot streaked out the hole caused by the blast, abandoning the unstable building in favor of the open skies.

They danced across the sparkling waters of the bright blue ocean, the heat from their ki-charged bodies causing the sea to sizzle under their feet. The humidity in the air was so intense that it threatened to frizz even Saiyan hair and damp lanks fell across both warriors' eyes.

Viciously, Vegeta attacked, appearing behind Kakarot to deliver a stunning blow to his spine. The other warrior hunched with pain, and Vegeta took the opportunity to lash out with a brutal kick that sent Kakarot sailing into the depths of the ocean.

Kakarot disappeared beneath the sea, and Vegeta squint his eyes, trying to see beyond the turbulent water. He honed his mind in on his enemy's ki, and at the last moment he twisted to the side as a huge blast exploded up out of the ocean, carrying a fine spray of mist with it.

Close on its tail, Kakarot followed, driving Vegeta up into the sky with his furious attacks. They dipped through the air, skimming the surface of the ocean, before rocketing up into the atmosphere. With every dive, more moisture from the warm ocean was pushed into the updraft caused by their frantic motions.

Their battle called to the supernatural forces that still lingered on the planet's surface. A brutal wind kicked up, resounding across the sea like a wail of a thousand lost souls. The skies darkened to an angry hue, reflecting the agony of the world.

The two warriors swirled counterclockwise around each other, performing intricate attacks that could have easily been dismissed as a complicated waltz. The sky was their ball room and at the edges of their space thick, dark clouds began to form. Lightning slashed the sky, but they ignored the tumult. The eye where they fought was untouched by the shrieking winds that were gathering in intensity.

Hail bombarded the land and the sea writhed in torment. Thick, frothy waves licked upwards, trying to touch the heels of the immensely powerful combatants whose very presence called upon the forces of nature. The rippling tide devoured the shores, forcing itself on the protesting land, claiming areas long denied to its greedy waves.

The limitless power that both males unleashed fed the hunger of the storm. The malicious presence aided in the fury, adding its own rancor to the growing hurricane.

King Cold glanced above him, absorbing the seething storm that whipped around him. The wind ripped across the land, blowing the tropical trees nearly sideways with its ferocity. He dug his feet into the soil, using his formidable ki to keep from being blown away. Rain drove into him from the side like icy spikes and more than once he had to dodge a dangerously close lightning strike. His lackeys ran for cover, but he stood his ground, peering past the storm, trying to see the two warriors that fought so furiously in the heart of the hurricane.

Vegeta and Kakarot paused, both panting and bloody from their exertions. Vegeta felt something bright shine inside of him, a longing that he couldn't place. It felt so right to be facing off with another of his kind. The exhilaration wound its way through him, driving back the anger in his soul in favor of blood lust. A small wicked voice whispered in his mind, telling him that this was the way of a true warrior. That to die this day would be honorable.

It would be a godsend.

Once dead, he wouldn't be able to complete his transformation. He would be prevented from completely submerging himself in the darkness. Death would be his salvation. The quiet voice stole some of his power, weakening his resolve in front of his enemy.

However, he was still the heir to his race, proud, arrogant, and unstoppable in battle. He would not go down without a fight.

"Bow to me. I am your king by right. Disavow that pretender. Fight by my side or be crushed by me."

Kakarot cocked his head to the side, his eyes silently assessing. For a moment, Vegeta thought he glimpsed something inside of the other male, a longing that had long since been suppressed.

"I can't." The reply was simple, but firm.

"You deny your heritage to serve that worm?" Vegeta spat.

"I've been told that Saiyans are bloodthirsty monsters. Why would I want to associate myself with them?" There was a gleam of curiosity in the younger man's eyes that was almost boyish.

"Lies!" Vegeta screamed, his face red with indignation. "Lies, told you by that lizard bastard." On a deep level, Vegeta realized that they were connected. Both had felt the touch of slavery and humiliation under the claw of their 'masters'.

All at once there was a change in Kakarot's demeanor, shifting from serious to comical in a space of a heartbeat. He hung suspended in the air, his hand behind his head as he grinned in Vegeta's direction.

"No need to get so upset. I'm sure that we can be friends, but first I have to take you back to King Cold. He gets pretty upset, when people don't do like he wants."

Vegeta's eyes bulged and his jaw worked furiously as he glared at the man. He was certain that the young Saiyan was insane. He wasn't entirely surprised. Being raised by a sadistic tyrant could break anybody's psyche.

"The only reason I'm going anywhere near that sick fuck is to kill him."

Kakarot lowered his arm, his open features hardening into an expressionless mask. "Oh, well then. I guess I will have to drag you back," he stated matter-of-factly.

Vegeta sneered, his lip curling in arrogance and disgust. "You can try boy, but you are just going to get dead."

Kakarot shrugged in childish dismissal and launched himself at the other man. Vegeta blocked his swinging fist, following up with a nasty kick to Kakarot's ribs. They spun away from each other, regaining their balance before attacking with renewed fury.

They chased each across the sky, neither unable to get the upper hand. Blood trickled slowly from their wounds, dripping into the churning waters beneath them. Vegeta felt himself weakening, the power that he had wielded so easily when fighting Frieza was becoming harder and harder to grasp. Kakarot remained strong, his breaths coming in heavy pants that did nothing to slow him down.

Vegeta felt resentment boil inside of him and the wickedness in his soul twined around his heart. He wanted to reach out and strangle the other man across from him. He wanted to see him writhe in pain as his pure heart was ripped from his beating chest. Vegeta could feel the malevolent forces try to feed him more power, calling him to give his soul completely to the darkness that was engulfing him, but a small fraction of his mind fought it.

He didn't want to become Frieza. He didn't want to lose himself. Most importantly, he didn't want to see the look on her face.

He blindly rushed Kakarot, pouring his ki into his breakneck speed. The young Saiyan sidestepped, and Vegeta shot past him into the wall of storms that were gathering around the eye of the hurricane. He skidded to a stop, deep within the cumulus clouds, bolts of lightning darting around him.

He turned to face back the way he came, squinting his eyes to see if Kakarot had followed him into the mass. He gripped his fists at his sides, ignoring the storm that raged around him. He gathered his dwindling ki, charging the ions to a fevered pitch as he readied his body to strike out at the first thing that moved.

His spike in power caused a magnetic charge, and the electricity in the air instinctively sought him out. Vegeta never saw the bolt of lightning that speared him through the back, its shocking fingers curling around his vital organs, squeezing the life from them. His reared back, his mouth wrenched open in a silent scream to the heavens as he was wracked with electricity.

The shock gradually dissipated, and the unconscious warrior fell from the sky to be swallowed by the ravenous sea. As he disappeared beneath the waves he inhaled a lungful of water, not even twitching as death reached out to claim him. At the last moment a strong hand darted out to grab him by the collar, hauling his head above water.

King Cold watched as a figure formed out of the cold mists of the storm. He smiled triumphantly as he watched his spiky-haired warrior calmly walk across the water, dragging the unconscious, former ruler of the universe in his wake.

King Cold summoned his men who were cowering from the storm.

"Contact the Shari-Reeves union. Tell them to move forward with our plan, but to wait for my word before delivering the killing blow." He rubbed his hands together, chuckling maliciously. "It will be such fun torturing Vegeta with the destruction of his stolen empire."


	14. Elsewhere in News

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. Let's face it; I don't own anything, its all on credit.

Chapter Fourteen

Elsewhere in news

Chi-Chi watched her nine year old son, Gohan, as he ate his breakfast, her heart breaking at the sight. He should be out playing with friends his own age or studying for exams, not dressed in an Ice-jin uniform, preparing to start his day as a soldier.

She wondered what his life would have been like if Earth had never been purged, and he had been raised as a normal boy. How her life had changed since that day seventeen years ago; how had everyone's.

She had met Goku when she as still just a girl, but it had been love at first sight. He had come to her rescue, extinguishing the flames that threatened her home while flashing his innocent smile. She had decided right then and there that she was going to marry the boy with the strange monkey tail, but then…

She had been eight when the purgers had come. Goku had been training with the finest martial arts master in the world, Master Roshi. He had been a friend of Goku's grandfather, and as a favor he had come out of retirement to train the young boy who showed limitless potential. Chi-Chi visited often, undeterred by the fact that the old man was a pervert. Krillin, an orphan boy who had run away from the monastery, eventually joined them and much to the old man's ire, the two boys became inseparable. She sparred with the boys, and made a general nuisance out of herself trying to get Goku's attention.

Until the attack she had always thought that Goku viewed her as an annoying girl that he had to be nice to so he could get fed, but after that day everything changed. Being the weakest, she had been the first one to fall. Then Krillin landed next to her, unable to withstand the intense attacks.

To protect them, to protect her, Goku had fought until he was bloody, then he stood up and fought some more. The purgers were under orders to collect the strongest inhabitants of Earth, so in the end they took her, Krillin and Goku. Master Roshi was too old to be a slave they claimed, and they murdered him in front of their eyes.

After that they were brought to Glace, the Ice-jin home world, to become slaves. They kept referring to Goku as a Saiyan, demanding that he kill for them, but he refused. He would disappear for weeks at a time, returning with new wounds on his body, but no matter how much they tortured him, he never lifted a hand to help them.

Five years passed, and they grew up together, clinging to one another for support. At thirteen her breast began to bud and her hips to swell as she started on the path to womanhood. Goku grew taller, and his lanky fifteen year old build began to fill out. Krillin's own growth seemed to be stunted by numerous beatings and heavy workload, but he took it in stride, his charm making up for lack of height. Although beaten nearly every day, Goku still managed to retain his innocence and jovial attitude. No matter how sad or scared she was, he always managed to make her smile.

One day their Ice-jin masters took Goku away, and when he returned there wasn't a mark on him, but there were tears streaming down his face. He dropped to his knees in front of her, wrapped his strong arms around her waist and pressed his face into her stomach. All he would say was that he would never let anyone touch her, and that he would protect her. The next day he went to work for the Ice-jin, complying with their every demand.

Later, she found out that they had taken him to the palace harem, what he saw there she could only guess.

Little by little, the Goku she knew slipped away. He would come back to her every night, the sorrow from his day etched into his face. Sometimes he would hold her silently, but other nights he would sob in her arms like a baby. She knew that what he saw when he wasn't with her was too much for any teenage boy to witness, and it was slowly killing him.

The honorable part of Goku struggled with the horrors that he perpetrated against others, all in the name of protecting her. She knew that he harbored rebellion in his heart, and that some day he would strike out against the Ice-jin, even if it meant his death, but he wouldn't do so as long as she was in danger.

Then at sixteen she had become pregnant with Gohan. Any thoughts of escaping the Ice-jin died with his birth. The day that Gohan was born was the last day that Goku cried in her arms. From that day forward he became Kakarot, elite warrior for King Cold's Galactic Forces.

At times she could see glimpses of Goku when he was watching her or Gohan, but most of the time he was completely distant. She even feared him at moments when he stared at her with emotionless eyes.

Now she was the one to cry at night. She couldn't escape the feeling that somehow Goku had been cheated out of his destiny. He had been meant to be something great, something special, but it had been beaten out of him. He had made a choice, his family or his fate. He had chosen his family and he resented them for it. She saw it every time he looked at her with those dead eyes.

Now her young son had been pressed into service. As a half Saiyan, he was nearly as powerful as his father and ten times more deadly.

Gohan had always been a serious as a toddler, but extremely loving. He lacked the boyish spark of his father though, and it had been easy to beat the love from him and mold him into a killer, despite her best efforts to protect him. She suspected that like Goku, he was missing his destiny, but he had yet to find his key to unlock it.

The harsh scrap of a chair across the tile floor woke her from her thoughts. She watched as Gohan silently and efficiently rinsed his dishes in the sink. A lock of black hair fell over his forehead, and she felt her heart constrict. He turned on his heel, pulling on his gloves as he strode towards the door.

"Have a nice day, honey," she called out, desperate for any connection with her son. "I love---"

The door shut with a click, cutting her off.

"---you."

She stared at the closed door for several seconds, her hand rubbing absently over her newly swelling stomach, before bursting into heart wrenching tears.

Eighteen stared coldly at the heavyset man who stood across from her. He had introduced himself as Kets, the head eunuch for the royal harem, and beside him stood a much shorter man with thick black hair. She supposed that he was sort of cute, in a boyish kind of way.

"I have my own attendant." She flicked her wrist towards Delia, who stood at her side. Dr. Gero's device worked wonders, and the beautiful woman was unrecognizable as an old hag.

"Is that so? You can have her run errands outside of the harem, but in here, Krillin is going to be your man."

Kets slapped the shorter man on the back, nearly knocking him off his feet.

"Unacceptable."

"Well now, missy, I don't know what it was like on the outside, but in here, King Cold's word is law. Krillin is to be your new hand maiden, and that's final."

Eighteen's sapphire eyes narrowed, and she noticed a faint blush creep up Krillin's cheeks at the guard's off-handed insult.

"I refused to be waited on by some dickless eunuch," Eighteen spat icily.

She was aware of a strange sense of shame as the words came out of her mouth. She quickly pushed it down, damning the emotion chip that Gero had inserted into her matrix. How she hated the mind-fuck games played by her creator.

Kets laughed jovially, slapping Krillin on the back again.

"That's just it. He's no eunuch. Isn't that right?"

"You see, Krillin here is a bad boy. He was caught having sex with one of the King's concubines. As punishment, they were going to cut off his balls, but they only got one done when he swore to all that's holy that he'd never do it again. Cold thought that was a fine idea, so they fixed him up and even give him extra shots of testosterone once a week for fun, just to rev him up."

As Kets explained Krillin's sorted past, Eighteen watched as the smaller man's face went from red to dark purple. She felt a small dose of pity for him as he shifted his weight nervously.

"So you see, now Krillin has to work in the harem with all you beautiful ladies. King Cold wants to see if he keeps his word around all this temptation. Cause if he doesn't…"

Kets fingered his knife that was sheathed at his side, meaningfully while eyeing Krillin. The shorter man gulped and shifted away subtly.

"So what you are saying is that it's a sadistic torture method? Well, I don't want any part of it. Assign him to someone else. I want only my attendant to serve me."

Kets features hardened and Eighteen knew she was fighting a losing battle.

"Punishment, not torture. He has to learn his lesson. As for your servant, she will go the kitchens," he stated decisively. "Besides you're just a robot. It's not like you _care_ or anything."

"Android."

"What?"

"I'm an android, you idiot."

"Whatever." He shrugged dismissively, opening a small box that he had been holding the entire time.

"Turn around so I can put this on you."

"What is it?" Eighteen felt like reaching through the pig's stomach and ripping out his spine, but she practiced restraint. She had to practice a lot.

"A necklace declaring that you are the property of King Cold and aren't to be touched by anyone else." Again, the guard shot a look at Krillin who shifted.

Eighteen eyed the man coldly, but he didn't back down, and she eventually sighed with resignation. She turned around, lifting her corn silk blonde hair to bare her neck.

She felt the cold kiss of metal as he clasped it into place, right before melting shocks of pain spread through her synapses. She dropped to her knees, caging her screams behind her tightly clenched teeth. Through a haze she heard Kets speak.

"Interesting. You feel pain. King Cold will be absolutely thrilled."

She curled her fingers around the collar, but she couldn't dislodge it.

"What have you done to me?" she gasped.

"Well, usually we put ki restraining collars on our more powerful girls, but since you are ki-less we had to develop a device that emits a jamming signal. It prevents your electronic neurons from connecting to your power centers. In essence, we took away all your strength."

Eighteen allowed Delia to help her to her feet, and from the corner of her eyes she caught Krillin's concerned look.

"Why?" she asked.

"Experience has taught us that there is nothing worse than a female's tantrum. It's just safer all around."

"I demand that you take it off." Eighteen knees were still shaking from the shock, but she faced Kets with unwavering pride. Again, she damned Gero and his games. He thought it was uproariously funny that he created her with pain sensors. Pain came part and parcel with pleasure, he told her. It made her a most effective seductress.

"Oh, it will come off. When it's time for you to see King Cold." The way he said it made her think that she would need all her strength to survive the encounter.

"Now I've wasted enough time. You, come with me." He pointed to Delia, turning to leave the room without waiting for a reply.

Delia darted a look at her, and Eighteen nodded silently. Delia followed after the guard, leaving Krillin and Eighteen to stare at each other.

Zarbon sighed deeply, forging Vegeta's name on official documents once again. His liege had disappeared without a trace, along with his two body guards, well over a month ago.

Zarbon had sent out groups of men to quietly look for the missing Emperor, but with no luck. He did his best to keep the empire running smoothly in his Lord's absence, but it was only a matter of time before everyone realized that there was no captain at the helm of the ship.

There was a sharp knock at the office door, and Zarbon sighed again.

After all, the sharks were circling.

"Enter."

A guard appeared, stepping to the side to allow a young woman to enter. She was stunningly beautiful with waist length, violet hair that was artfully arranged, and lightly tanned skin.

"Dame Rosetta." The guard introduced, and the lady sank into a deep curtsy. From under her long lashes, liquid silver eyes flashed, and Zarbon felt a tingle at his center that he hadn't felt in a long time.

He nodded in dismissal, and the guard snapped his heels before leaving, closing the door behind him.

In an attempt to quell his rising lust, Zarbon tore his gaze from her low cut gown that revealed entirely too much flesh when she had curtsied. He picked up his pen, glancing down at his papers as he affected a bored attitude.

"Yes?"

"I am Dame Rosetta, from the house of Eisen, legal representative of the Shari-Reeves union. Here are my diplomatic papers."

Her voice lilted across the room, sending shivers down Zarbon's spine. He refused to answer her, waiting to see how she would respond to being ignored.

She shifted indecisively in place for a moment before stepping up to his desk to place the papers on the corner.

"You may go." He waved his hand dismissively, while still leafing through his papers. From the corner of his eye he saw her stiffen, and he resisted the urge to smile.

"I'm here to see Lord Vegeta," she sneered haughtily.

Zarbon signed off on another document before replying.

"No one sees the Emperor without my approval, and I don't have time right now to verify your papers. As you can see I'm a very busy man."

"Is there some sort of problem? Is the Lord not available?" she asked slyly.

Zarbon finally raised his head, his amber eyes raking rudely over her body, telling her without words how little he thought of her.

"You are either very brave or very stupid for coming here."

He watched with fascination as a dusky blush heated her cheeks. She raised her chin a notch, looking down her nose at him.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because, the Emperor is very displeased with you pathetic revolutionaries, something I thought was blatantly clear at the conference."

At his mention of the massacre at Folaithe Ceo, Rosetta's cheeks lost all their color, and she shivered delicately. Her hair shimmered in the light and Zarbon was reminded of the flash of violet he had seen on the Shari-Reeves monitor during the massacre, right before he had turned it off. Had she witnessed the slaughter? Had she seen him with blood on his hands?

"I'm protected by diplomatic immunity."

Zarbon raised an arrogantly curved brow, shaking his head. "If you believe that, then you are stupid."

He silver eyes flashed as she bristled at the insult.

"Your opinion doesn't matter. You are nothing more than a servant boy," she spat.

Zarbon's amusement faded, and he stared at her coldly.

"That may be so, but I am the servant boy to the most powerful man in the universe, and you are at _my_ mercy."

Rosetta drew herself up, realizing her mistake instantly.

"You may remove yourself from my presence, and wait for me to call for another meeting at my convenience."

He picked up his pen again, already dismissing her.

"As I said before, I'm very busy, and that may be a while." He saw her lip curl with resigned anger before she spun on her heel to leave.

As she reached the door he couldn't resist infuriating her even more.

"Oh, and Dame Rosetta, might I suggest that you bring your diplomacy skills with you next time."

The door shut with a slam, shaking the wall with her departure. Zarbon tossed down his pen, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Things are deteriorating quickly." Jace appeared from his hidden catch behind the bookcase, his somber brown eyes watching Zarbon's tired features.

"How bad is it?" Zarbon questioned, his stomach rolling with trepidation.

"The Shari-Reeves Union is stealthily moving their troops into place. They have formed a tight net around most of our outlying bases. We would be wide open for attack if we weren't so aware of their movements."

"You mean if you didn't have spy in every toilet between here and the Badlands."

Jace shrugged offhandedly. He was just as nervous as Zarbon at the news. It was apparent that the rebels were suspicious of Vegeta's sudden absence and they were taking advantage of the situation. They were readying themselves for an attack on the fledgling government, and the only thing that stood between them and victory was his spy network and Zarbon's knack for intrigue.

Zarbon eyed the door distastefully. "It would seem that our new diplomat is more than she seems."

"That is likely."

"Find out what you can about her. I need to know why she is here and what she is up too. I can't have her wandering around the palace halls. The rebels are cautious at the moment, but as soon as they confirm that Vegeta is out of the picture they will swoop down on us like predators."

Jace nodded, and disappeared through the secret door that connected his lab to Zarbon's office.

Zarbon sighed again, vainly attempting to rub away the headache that was forming behind his eyes. Yes, the sharks were definitely circling.

A/N: Yes I know. That was all terribly boring and unfortunately necessary. I promise to have treats for all your patience next chapter. Unfortunately they won't be lemon flavored, but we are close, so very close.


	15. Baby Blues

Disclaimer: I have no claim on DBZ or its characters. However, if Vegeta wants to claim me, who am I to say no?

Thanks again to LisaB for clever insight and great beta skills.

A/N: Well folks I'm getting on towards my eighth month of pregnancy and I'm feeling it. I haven't written anything new in a month and I get the feeling that my creative output may be limited. Please understand that I won't be able to update as often as I was, but I will try to get something up when I can.

Chapter Fifteen

Baby Blues

Gelid City was a tangle of passageways carved into the icy flesh of Planet Glace. At the center, a crystal palace crouched like a bloated, white spider on its web, waiting for innocent prey to devour. Its domes arched towards the sky, the very tops etched from the thinnest ice to allow the filtered rays of the sun to illuminate the halls.

Only the most elite of the Ice-jin could walk its upper byways, years of breeding allowing their skin and eyes to adjust to the light. The less fortunate Ice-jin, those who didn't have the benefit of selective genetics, crept in the darkness, closer to the warm heart of the planet and away from the light their leaders embraced.

The city wove its way deeper underground, growing fouler with the stench of poverty and sulfuric fires. Those who lived at the very edges of the metropolis scavenged the refuse of the city like the parasites they were born to be, the last true remaining Ice-jin who never crawled out of their caves to conquer the universe.

The entire world of Glace was covered in ice, its sun too far away to offer nurturing warmth. The Ice-jin had been born in the world's womb, powerless, sightless, and weak, They were no more than worms that crawled on their bellies. In time, Glace's children grew, spouting arms and legs so they could venture further from the hot core of the world, but the bright light of the surface drove them back. Then one was born who could bear the heat of the tepid sun and the dim light. He led his people to victory among the stars, becoming their king. Since then, the Frost family has ruled for centuries, challenged by no one.

Many of the Ice-jin couldn't stand the light on their skin, and since the Frost family refused to enter the dark, they were forced to rely on slave labor to keep their domain running smoothly. Gelid City became the merchant center of the universe, and creatures from all reaches of space settled there to hawk their wares. Along with the call of the slave market, goods of any kind could be found, no matter how indecent or inhumane. There was no law against commerce, only laws to regulate it--- specifically the percentage the royal family earned.

Bulma had never seen so many races in one place. All of them depended on the Ice-jin in one way or another, either for trade or as slaves. Foreigners moved around swathed in thick clothes or furs to protect them from the crisp sub-zero temperatures that froze bare fingers even inside the city walls. The palace itself was both sinister and beautiful, evoking awe and fear. The upper half was illuminated by the sun, the smooth ice sparkling like a forbidden jewel, but beneath the lighted rooms was a maze of icy corridors that the sun could not penetrate. Naturally glowing rocks were carved into the walls, the blue glow reflecting eerily on the ice.

As Bulma made her way down the passageway, she jumped as the sculpted palace echoed with noises that were far away. Sound carried awkwardly in the odd building, and many secrets were overheard. Shadows danced behind thick sheets of ice as other people moved in parallel passages or in other rooms only feet from her.

She had been at King Cold's court for less than a day, but she had already uncovered the information she was looking for. Cold had a strange monkey boy on display in his menagerie for all to see. Nothing more than an animal in a cage. Bulma grit her teeth and pressed on, following the directions another servant had given her, led by the faint echo of the roar of unhappy creatures.

The twisting passages were difficult to navigate, but eventually she entered a large underground cavern that was brightly lit. All around her were cages that housed exotic animals with small plaques that described their origins. She passed by, her sorrowful eyes taking in the dejected creatures that lay listlessly in their cages or paced with fruitless anger.

She searched for long minutes, frustration and excitement gnawing at her. Finally, she would have what she had been searching for. Her baby would be where he belonged, in her arms. She regretted so much in her life, but nothing more than this. Although she knew that she had done the best thing by sending him away, her mother's heart cried out against it. She would never forgive herself for what happened to Trunks, she could only try to make it better. She would spend the rest of her life making it up to him. She hoped that he would never remember the pain and trauma that she was sure that he had suffered while in the Ice-jin's hands.

Once she rescued Trunks, she would seek out Vegeta, and try to undo the damage that had been done. When she thought of her mate, her heart constricted. Right now he was lost and alone or, as Saffron had put it, loose in the universe. His anger at her had caused him to strike out at the innocent, and she didn't know if she would ever be able to make it right. When she fell in love with Vegeta she had known he was a monster, but it hadn't mattered. He had been _her_ monster to love and cherish. But now he was the nightmare of the universe, and she didn't know if she could deal with that.

At the edges of the zoo, a cage sat separate from the others, immersed in shadow. The plaque claimed that the cage held a Saiyan-Human hybrid, a rare oddity to be enjoyed. Bulma fumed at the cage, enraged that her son had been reduced to an amusement for the elites of the Ice-jin world, something for them to point and laugh at from a safe distance.

Bulma disengaged her DNA Recompositer, changing back to her beautiful human form. She wanted to show herself to her son as she truly was, not as the aged crone she was forced to hide as. She crept closer, peering into the darkened cage. The shadows were deep, and she couldn't see more than a few feet.

"Trunks," she called out softly, afraid of drawing attention to herself.

She edged closer, calling her son's name hopefully. She pressed her face against bars, desperately trying to see passed the darkness, fear edging her heart. What if he wasn't there? What if they had taken him away?

From out of the darkness came a flurry of snarling fangs and reaching claws. Bulma jerked back, falling backwards onto the cold ground as she stared wide-eyed at the creature that inhabited the cage.

A small boy stood at the bars, his long lavender hair falling haphazardly down his back. His tail lashed angrily behind him, and a half formed growl vibrated in his chest. She barely recognized him as the babe she held in her arms for a scant hour after he was born. He stood tall and strong, amazing her with his agility at only a year of age.

The face that stared back at her, looked so much like Vegeta's that her heart ached. It was scrunched up into a vicious scowl, but there was no mistaking the high forehead and arrogant cheekbones. His vibrant blue eyes, so similar to hers, glared at her, only feral menace glowing in their depths, along with a reflection of her horrified expression.

She searched his face, looking for a spark of intelligence, for something beyond animal instinct, but he continued to growl mindlessly at her. She felt power inside of him, deep-seated and intense, like that of his fathers. He boiled with rage, but although he was as dexterous as an eight year old child, she saw no hint of humanity. He _was_ nothing more than an animal in a cage.

"Trunks," she breathed, tears forming on her cheeks. "What have they done to you?"

The regret in her heart bloomed into an agony that she could hardly bear. She clutched her chest, tears running unchecked down her cheeks as she watched her son pace his cage.

He whirled to hiss down at her before striding to the other side of the cage. He grabbed the bars, yanking on them until his body shook, but they didn't even groan. His tail lashed out, the soft lavender fur bristling with agitation. Bulma sobbed as she watched, suddenly reminded of the day Vegeta took her for his mate in the cafeteria on Primas.

Bulma pulled herself up, and Trunks turned to face her, watching her every move suspiciously.

"Trunks, honey, it's me, your mama," she cajoled, wrapping her hands around the bars.

He sprung towards her, his teeth snapping dangerously. She yanked her fingers back, barely saving them from being bitten off.

More tears streamed down Bulma's hopeless face as she watched her son continue his pacing. Bitter defeat rose up inside of her when she realized that she would never be able to get him out of the cage without him killing her. Her dreams of a happy reunion turned to ash in her mouth. She would never be able to hold Trunks in her arms and cuddle him like a human babe. She couldn't wipe away his fear or terror; she couldn't even bathe his dirty face with the hem of her shirt!

"I'm sorry, Trunks. I'm so sorry."

Sending her baby away to protect him had been the hardest thing she had ever done. It had been harder than leaving Vegeta, harder than lying silently under her master's scaly claws. It had been even more traumatizing than dying. As he sat nestled under her heart for nine months, she had bonded with him in a way she never thought possible. Giving birth to him was like giving birth to pure love. As she held him in her arms her soul had sang with the perfect beauty of him, and setting him in the space pod was like gouging out her own heart.

She could have never foreseen the damage her actions would bring. Instead of having the bearing of a prince, her precious child was feral and caged by her enemy. Her mate had set the universe on fire with his rage at her abandonment, leaving her alone and empty with the knowledge that she may never regain his love. Worst of all, she was left with the wisdom that if she had known how things would have turned out that she could not have altered her actions. She had done what she needed to do. There had been no alternatives.

She knelt before Trunk's cage, her face cradled in her hands as she sobbed. Between her wrenching cries she begged his forgiveness, pleading for him to understand why she had to send him away. With every passing moment her sobs echoed in the cavern, Trunks pacing became less furious as he focus more and more of his attention on the strange woman at his feet. Eventually, he came to complete standstill in the center of his cage, his bright eyes staring intensely at her.

Bulma lifted her head, and their eyes met and held for a handful of seconds before he chuffed softly in discontent. He retreated to the back of his cage where she couldn't see him. She wanted to move closer, to peer between the bars, but she dared not to, afraid of her own son.

She sat silently for nearly an hour, waiting to see if he would come back out, but she was disappointed. In the distance she heard a group of people laughing gaily, and she knew that she couldn't risk staying any longer. Even though she wanted to bed down and never leave her son's side, she knew that she couldn't risk being caught. If anyone were to ever figure out who she was, then her life would be forfeit, and she dared not think of what would happen to Trunks.

She stood up and reengaged her DNA Recompositer while receding into the shadows, her spine tingling oddly as if she was being watched. She looked over her shoulder towards the cage, and she thought she saw a flash of sapphire in the darkness, but then there was nothing.

Bulma walked dejected back towards the palace, using the servant corridors. She headed towards the largest dome in the center of the palace that housed the indoor arena. She needed to inform her Android companion that she had found her son, but she didn't know how long it would be before they would be able to leave. She was sure that she would receive no argument. The longer the stayed on Glace the more money the greedy Dr. Gero would be able to charge her. Time, after all, was money.

She traveled underneath the arena and into the gladiator living quarters. As she made her way to the room Seventeen had been assigned, she couldn't help but to think about the college dormitories back on Earth. Although there were a few warrior females, the halls were mostly packed with tightly muscled males that would make any woman salivate. They hung in the doorways of their rooms, in various phases of undress, cat calling any female who walked by while tormenting their fellow competitors with their lewd wit.

Bulma ignored them all, not even blinking when a frantic, naked man chased a laughing female passed her, screaming something about getting his clothes back.

Beneath that level, there was another complex, composed of tiny cells. That was were they kept the prisoners who were forced to fight in the arena, nothing more than cannon fodder for the gladiators who came to Glace of their own free will. It was an effective way of ridding themselves of their criminal element, and it kept the decadent Gelid City aristocrats entertained.

She stopped in front of Seventeen's door, knocking discreetly, while eyeing several empty bottles of booze that were clustered in the corner. She breathed through her mouth, trying to ignore the smell that was invading her senses. She would hate to see this place on a Saturday night.

She heard a muffled response from behind the door which she interpreted it as an invitation. She opened the door, quickly closing it behind her before scanning for the owner of the room. She came to a skidding stop, her eyes squarely on the tight and very naked hind end of Seventeen as he rummaged through the closet. Her mouth popped open, and her eyes bulged before she caught herself. She snapped her jaw shut and whirled around to face the door.

"Seventeen!"

"What?" He leisurely looked over his shoulder to see his temporary boss facing the door as if her life depended on it.

"You shouldn't invite someone into your room unless you're dressed," she lectured.

"Why?" He shrugged and turned away, continuing to peer into his closet.

"Because it's rude. You don't go out into public naked, do you?"

"Dr. Gero didn't program me with a modesty chip. I would go about naked if I wasn't instructed specifically not to. Besides if you want to talk fashion, talk to my sister."

"It has nothing to do with fashion and everything to do with modesty. From now on, I insist that you keep yourself completely dressed while in my company. For your sake as well as mine." Bulma crossed her arms in front of her, glaring at the door. She tapped her foot with impatience as she waited for him to get dressed.

"Why?" Seventeen pulled on a pair of thick leather pants that would help protect him for the upcoming fight he was preparing for. He could care less for Bulma's delicate sensibilities, but she had given him an order that he would be sure to obey in the future. He could do nothing but comply with her demands.

"Because if my husband finds out that I saw you naked, he could very well dismantle you where you stand."

Seventeen straightened, and his icy blue eyes bore into her ramrod back.

"Well, first he would have to take time out from his annihilation of the universe, wouldn't he?"

Bulma's fists tightened at her sides, and she took a deep, wavering breath in an attempt to calm herself before responding. She was sick and tired of people alluding to what a demon Vegeta was. They just didn't understand him the way she did.

"Watch your tongue, Android. Remember, you are here working for me. I won't tolerate any insubordination from you."

"Aye-aye," Seventeen mocked, and clicked his heels together in an Ice-jin military salute.

"Are you dressed yet?" Bulma asked coldly.

Seventeen pulled a leather jerkin over his lean shoulders before answering.

"Yes Ma'am."

Bulma turned around, but didn't move from her place by the door.

"I found Trunks."

"Excellent, shall I make arrangements for our departure then?" Seventeen was more than willing to get off this rock and away from the prickly female as quickly as possible.

"No." Bulma looked away, her eyes finding a particularly interesting stain in the carpet. "He won't be available for transportation for some time. There is no way that I would be able to get him out of his cage, and we can't sneak the whole thing onto the ship without someone noticing."

"Cage?" Seventeen asked mildly.

Bulma grimaced before answering. "They have him locked in a cage at the zoo."

Seventeen didn't reply, and they sat for long moments in silence while Bulma tried to cope with her rising despair. She had no idea what her next move would be. She was tired, and her head was starting to pound with stress.

"We are going to have to stay here for a while longer."

"Very well. Then I will continue my charade as a contestant. Hopefully, I won't get dismantled," Seventeen commented mockingly, and Bulma sighed.

"I'm sorry. That comment was uncalled for." Bulma met his eyes briefly before sliding away in shame.

Seventeen stilled, his entire body stiffening in shock. No one in his entire existence had ever apologized to him. They always assumed that just because he was an Android, he was completely devoid of emotions. A misconception that unfortunately wasn't true.

"Look, you be careful out there, okay." This time Bulma met his eyes, and kept her gaze centered on him meaningfully until he nodded in understanding. She gifted him with a brief smile before turning to leave.

Seventeen watched her go, frozen in place until the door clicked shut. Once she left the room he was able to move again, uncertain of why he was so confused by her soft apology. He had been regaled constantly by abuse and indifference, and he had never flinched. However, one kind word from some little human, and he turned soft.

Maybe it was because she was human. After all, besides Dr. Gero, he had never seen a human being. Seventeen knew that he and his sister had been human at one time before Gero had stolen their bodies and turned them into soulless machines, but there was no recollection of that time. Perhaps she touched on some latent memory, or some sort of trick wiring the Doctor had installed had misfired. Whatever it was, he would be sure not to be caught off guard by her again.

He finished dressing, and left his room, making his way towards the gladiator entrance to the arena. As he neared, he could hear the thunderous applause of the watching crowd. He paused near the gate, looking out over the arena.

Inside he saw a large rusty-skinned male, beating mercilessly on a smaller dark-haired warrior. Seventeen winced as the large man kicked the beaten contestant viciously in the stomach, sending him sailing across the arena and into the far wall, cracking the ice.

"Damn."

Seventeen glanced to the side, seeing another contestant holding his stomach in sympathy.

"I actually feel kinda sorry for that guy."

"Who is he?" Seventeen asked.

"Dunno, some slave from the lower cells. He's a pretty good fighter. He always gives it a go in the beginning, but they leach his ki, so he's weak." The man winced again as the dark warrior took another hit to the face.

"If that's so, why isn't he dead yet?" Seventeen knew all the fights in the arena were to the death. It made no sense to him that the man was still alive.

The contestant glanced at him, his lips twisted in disgust. "They don't want to kill him. They're just torturing him. I guess he's some sort of enemy to the Ice-jin."

There was another roar of applause and Seventeen looked up to see the tall male lifting his hands to the crowd while two other men pulled the dark warrior from the field. Seventeen and his companion moved to the side as the gate opened to allow the men to pass.

They dragged the battered man by his arms, his heels dragging in the dirt. As they passed by, Seventeen looked behind him to see the man's face. Angry black eyes met cool blue before they disappeared down the hall.

"How interesting," Seventeen murmured to himself as he turned to enter the arena.


	16. Love Heals All Wounds

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, cause if I did, Vegeta would rule the world and I would rule him.

Thanks to everyone for all your patience the last several months and your encouraging reviews. I can't promise that it will get better, but I am trying. Mommyhood is turning out to be harder than I thought. I can promise that no matter how long it takes I will finish ALL my fics.

Thanks so much to LisaB for her tireless efforts to make me a better writer.

Chapter Sixteen

Love heals all Wounds

Delia stared wide-eyed at the screeching black-haired woman who was throwing pans haphazardly around the kitchen. She was obviously the main chef, and she was mightily displeased about something.

She trembled, not daring to enter further into the kitchen. She had been dropped off by Kets with a curt order to introduce herself and get assigned to her new duties, but when she entered, she found a war zone. Most everyone in the room was cowering from the banshee's wrath, and Delia noticed more than one lowly looking slave sliding out the back door.

"She's in a real twist this time, isn't she?"

Delia glanced up at the man who had managed to sidle up next to her unnoticed. All the spit in her mouth dried up, and her knees began to shake at the sight. Raditz stood next to her, radiating comforting heat. She skimmed over his face taking in the newly formed fine lines at the crease of his brow and the corners of his mouth. He looked tired and strained, as though the weight of the world was upon him. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to reach up and caress those lines away.

Raditz looked her way, frowning down at her. She quickly wiped the adoring look from her face, praying that her disguise as an old woman would fool him. His thick chest expanded as he inhaled deeply, freezing Delia where she stood.

"Are you new here?"

All she could do was nod mutely, too afraid to do anything else. His eyes took on a faraway gleam as he looked down at her, making her heart clench.

"You remind me of someone I used to know. You smell like her."

Delia was sure that her heartache was apparent in her face, but a large crash drew his attention away from her.

The black-haired woman whipped around, catching sight of Raditz in the corner. She instantly stilled, her anger ebbing away. Her eyes flickered down to the laden tray that he carried in his arms.

"Is he still not eating?" she questioned harshly.

"Being imprisoned is hard on him, Chi Chi."

"You are imprisoned too, but that doesn't stunt your appetite. Maybe he thinks he's too good for my cooking." She sniffed delicately while palming her rolling pin. Raditz winced as he limped forward to set the try on the counter.

Delia had to contain herself before her jaw dropped onto the floor as she watched him. His left leg dragged behind him slightly, unable to move beyond a momentary twitch. Her tall, strong Saiyan had been badly wounded. His injuries hadn't healed properly leaving him nearly incapacitated.

"Raditz," Chi Chi murmured softly, motioning towards the floor. Delia looked down, and she had to fling her hand over her mouth to contain her gasp.

His once proud tail was trailing behind him in the dirt, completely limp and lifeless. Raditz's cheeks turned pink as he dipped his head in shame while reaching back to wrap his tail around his waist. He secured it to his belt with a piece of string, the tip dangling down his side.

Raditz ignored the concern on Chi Chi's face, his cold demeanor straightening his spine.

"The Lord will eat when he wants to. It is not our place to dictate to him."

Chi Chi slammed her rolling pin down on the steel counter, causing Delia to jump at the crash.

"That man is just waiting to die, and you are letting him."

"Watch your tongue wench and mind your own business."

Raditz turned and lumbered away, brushing past Delia.

"You know it's true, Raditz."

Raditz's shoulders twitched, but he didn't pause as he left the room.

Chi Chi's black eyes centered on Delia who remained mute at the doorway.

"Who are you?"

Delia quickly explained her purpose for being there, and she was promptly assigned to wash the endless dishes that were piled up at the sink. She went to the back of the kitchen as if in a daze. Over and over, Raditz's look of devastation when he had glanced down to see that his tail had fallen unnoticed to the floor played in her head.

The entire time that she had known Raditz he had been nearly as arrogant as his prince. He only showed moments of enduring vulnerability when they had been alone together, but otherwise he had always been a proud Saiyan warrior. However, his slumped shoulders and sagging tail told a story of a different man. A man that was broken.

Within a few hours Delia was able to glean information from her fellow slaves, and what she found out nearly broke her heart.

Nappa was dead. He had died during a battle with the Ice-jin. Even now his body lay rotting under a pile of rubbish where they had left him. Delia knew that Elle Grier, Jarrell's nursemaid, would morn his loss deeply. Although he had been gruff and crude, he had always been kind to Delia, and for that she would miss him.

Vegeta had been defeated in battle and was forced to fight in the slave pens. Delia was stunned by the news that there was another Saiyan in existence by the name of Kakarot---Raditz's brother! It was said that he had beat the Saiyan king into submission. That was something that Delia could barely comprehend. She had though that there could be no one more powerful than the cruel lord she so desperately feared, but there seemed to be another---one just as dangerous.

Raditz, to her despair, had irreparable spinal damage. His leg and tail that had been severely broken during his capture had never healed properly. He had partial feeling in his left leg and absolutely no motor control in his tail.

Along with his broken body, his pride had suffered monumental damage as well. The slaves described him as being soft spoken and unassuming. He served his master silently, hardly raising his voice to anyone except for Chi Chi, whom Delia found was his sister-in-law. Delia was in shock. Her strong Saiyan lover had always been aggressive both in bed and out. Now he was only a mere shadow of himself.

After a few inquiries, Delia was able to find out where Raditz's quarters were. Although he served Vegeta, he was not kept in a cage like his lord. In his weakened condition the Ice-jin felt he was of little threat. He was kept around only to bring Vegeta food, serving all of his needs while he was imprisoned. Delia had no doubt that once the Ice-jin disposed of Vegeta they would do the same to Raditz. They had no use for a lame slave who was nearly powerless.

After she was excused from her shift in the kitchens she was given a map to her own quarters, but she bypassed them, heading for Raditz's room instead. After a long walk that twisted through dirty streets Delia finally stood outside Raditz's door, trying not to cringe as a drunken reptile slithered past her. His quarters were in the slums of the city, no more than blocks of ice built on top of each other, hollowed out into ten foot cubes. Hesitantly she knocked on the door, quickly checking to make sure that her disguise was solidly in place.

Behind the thin wood door she could hear shuffling, and then suddenly it opened up to reveal the towering Saiyan. Delia was struck dumb for a moment as she stared up at her lover, her heart constricting at the sight of his sunken eyes and ashen skin. He was still impossibly tall, but he had lost his majesty. He seemed smaller, folded in on himself, as if he was trying to disappear from sight.

"You're from the kitchens."

Raditz's voice startled her from her thoughts, reminding her that he didn't recognize her.

"Yes, my name is Rashel. I am a slave from Zenth." Delia stuck to her cover story. She had no intention of revealing herself to Raditz. She had no idea how he would react to the news. Although in her heart she had no reason to believe that he would hurt her, she had no reason _not_ to believe it either. He could very well blame his current situation on her. His pride, his very being, had been broken. She didn't want to be on the killing end of his wrath.

Her eyes were drawn to the limp tip of his tail that hung with dejected sorrow towards the floor. A wave of sympathy swept through her again. She knew that she couldn't leave him, not when she had the ability to fix him. She could do this one thing for him, no matter the cost.

"Well, what do you want?" Raditz's dark eyes bored into her, demanding a reason for the disruption.

"Chi Chi told me where I could find you." Delia started lamely, but Raditz's lack of response prodded her on. "My race is that of healers. I thought I could help you."

The door was slammed in her face so fast that she had to blink a couple of times before she realized what had happened. Apparently Raditz didn't appreciate her offer of help. Stupid Saiyan pride.

She knocked on the door, irritation bubbling up inside of her. When it didn't open, she began to pound on it, all of her frustrations pouring out of her. Her nerves were strung taunt from the last couple of months. First she had to flit around the palace avoiding near death from Vegeta coupled with Raditz's icy cold anger. Then she had been trapped for weeks in a two man ship with Bulma and her erratic mood swings, and now, to top it off, her offer of help was being rudely rejected. She was at the end of her rope.

The door jerked open with such force that it struck the wall, bouncing back to hit Raditz in the shoulder. He ignored the blow as he scowled down at Delia, the harsh set of his mouth promising pain.

"What?" he growled.

"Do you want to stay a crippled, useless, has-been warrior the rest of your life, or do you want to get better and serve your lord?" The words spilled out of Delia's mouth before she could stop them, her aged, watery eyes widening in shock at her own audacity.

Before she could run, Raditz's hand shot out with Saiyan speed, his strong fingers wrapping themselves around her slender neck. He pulled her up against his chest, ignoring her small, flailing fists that pounded into his shoulders. He was an unyielding wall of muscle that was impenetrable to her pathetic attack. He may be crippled, but he still was far stronger than she.

"How dare you," he snarled into her face.

Delia wanted to say that she dared because she loved him, but her disguise prevented her from doing that. Even if she was standing before him as Delia, she didn't know if she could say the words. Being rejected by Raditz hurt more than words could say. It hurt more than being Frieza's slave.

Raditz's nostrils flared, his body forming a rigid line of disapproval as he held her. His eyes narrowed to angry slits as they slid down her body. To him she appeared as a tired old woman who had known too many days and nights of hard work, but no amount of DNA recombination could change her scent.

Raditz dropped her abruptly, whirling away to face the cold, slate wall. Delia took the opportunity to slip inside his apartment, her eyes taking in the sight. The small cube of ice was walled with slate in consideration for Raditz's non-reptilian breeding, but the black stone seemed to make the room colder, not warmer. Most of the room was taken up by a single wide cot that was pushed up against the wall. It wasn't nearly big enough for the immense Saiyan to sleep on, and his feet surely hung over the edge. A nightstand stood next to the bed, a hotplate perched on top. Lastly, in the corner was a pile of clothes. Whether they were clean, dirty or both, she didn't know.

"Is something wrong?" she asked while closing the door behind her. Her goal was partly completed. She was inside; now she needed to stay there.

"You smell…never mind. Get out!" He turned on her, herding her towards the door.

She raised her hand to his chest, surprised when he came to a stop. She looked up at him, willing sincerity into her eyes.

"I can heal you. Do you dare to pass up the chance and live like this the rest of your life?"

"Nothing can heal me, not even the regen tanks."

"I can." She made her claim softly, letting her eyes do the talking for her.

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because believing in me is better than having failed in your duty to yourself and to your king. Because you lose nothing in trusting me, if only for an hour while I heal your body."

Raditz's eyes darkened as he glared at her, uncertainty and mistrust brewing in their depths.

"Why would you do this?"

How could she answer that question without giving away who she was? How could she tell him that it broke her heart to see him that way? It wasn't just his body that was broken. His entire being was destroyed.

"I can't stand to see any creature in pain," Delia whispered, hoping that he couldn't see the truth in her eyes.

"Bleeding heart," Raditz muttered quietly, and Delia nodded mutely. He stared down at her for a long moment, before he reluctantly inclined his head.

"Good." She smiled up at him. "I need you to take off your clothes."

"What?" Raditz's eyes went wide, and Delia couldn't help but to chuckle.

"What's the matter? Afraid of showing your goods to an old lady?"

Raditz snorted, turning his back on her to strip off his clothes. His shirt came off slowly and Delia licked her lips as the firm layers of his bronze muscles gleamed in the lamplight. His pants came off even more slowly, but instead of smiling Delia frowned when he leaned against the wall for support as his left leg nearly buckled beneath him. Without anything to hold his tail in place, it dangled down between the cleft of his butt cheeks, dragging on the ground like an unnoticed piece of toilet paper on someone's shoe. Normally, his naked rear end would have made her salivate, but the sad sight of his tail made her want to cry.

Delia choked down her sadness, pointing to the bed, forgetting that he couldn't see her. "Lay on the bed, face down."

He complied, and she sat next to him, near his hip. He tensed the muscles of his back contracting at his nearness. Something made him want to trust her, but he didn't have to like having his back to her.

Delia took out a vile of golden liquid and poured it into her cupped palm. She warmed it in her hands as she thought back to her childhood and her time spent with her grandmother. She hadn't lied to Raditz. Her race was known for its gift of healing. They were weak, with no fighting power of which to speak, but they did have one skill: the ability to channel ki into the body. Without surgery or the need of a regeneration tank, a skilled healer could enter the body with their ki to repair broken limbs, severed nerves and reverse paralysis---all with the power of their mind.

Delia allowed the memories of her grandmother to flow through her, meticulously recalling the healing chant that she had taught her. Slowly she whispered the words, becoming more confident as she felt her ki warm her hands. Like rivers of liquid gold, she could feel her power streaming through her body and out her palms. She laid her hands on Raditz's lower back, ignoring his soft warning growl.

The room filled with a warm glow, making the cold walls look almost inviting. The light reached out, wrapping its warmth around them both, making them feel safe and protected. It gave a sense of home that otherwise didn't exist on the frozen planet. If Raditz could see her in her true form he would see the golden scales that lined her hairline begin to glow then fade as she channeled her power.

Delia closed her eyes, willing her ki to enter Raditz's body, seeking out his damaged spinal cord. She ran her hands over his smooth skin, leaching the pain from his body and filling him with a dull sense of pleasure. As her hands slid down the curve of his back and over his hard butt cheeks, Raditz began to purr uncontrollably as the pain left his body for the first time in months. He relaxed his muscles, resting his head on his folded arms as his eyes drifted shut.

Delia felt sweat form at the crown of her head and beads of it ran down from her temple. She had never had ample amounts of ki. Before now her experience in healing had been limited to scraps and bruises: nothing of this magnitude. She worked her hands down Raditz's left leg, rebuilding the withered muscle to its former strength. He would have some stiffness for a couple of days, but he would never again walk with a limp.

She felt her strength drain out of her like water through a sieve, and she desperately grasped at the last, lingering strands. She could not stop; she would not leave him half done. Gently she wrapped her warm hands around the base of his tail, momentarily relishing the feel of his soft, thick fur in her fingers.

She felt Raditz tense again, but she ignored him as she ran his tail through her hands, sending the last remnants of her ki into the bundle of nerves that connected his tail to his spine. She stroked him intimately, reawakening his dormant senses so he could feel once again. The tip of his tail began to twitch, then sway like a contented cat as she restored all control and feeling in his proud appendage.

She lessened her ki to a trickle, but she didn't pause her stroking. Raditz hadn't relaxed during her ministrations; in fact his muscles became even tighter beneath her soft hand. Unexpectedly, he reared back, his hand lashing out to grip her around her wrist, pressing her Recombinator painfully into her flesh.

"You have to stop now!" he barked at her, and she felt a moment of indignation that he would treat her so shabbily after she risked everything to heal him. Before she could respond, she was distracted by his thick arousal pressed into her thigh. She glanced down, swallowing hard at the sight.

Raditz quickly let go of her wrist, whipping the sheet up over his thighs, his cheeks turning crimson in mortification. As he tore his hand away, he took her Recombinator with it and Delia watched with a muted sense of horror as it fell to the ground. She stared down at it, willing it back on her wrist, but it remained on the floor, the clasp broken.

Silence descended on the room, and she knew that her disguise had fallen. She was now exposed to the angry eyes of her ex-lover, her fate signed and sealed.

"Delia."

Her name was softly spoken. She couldn't tell if it was a threat or sheer surprise, all she knew was that it sounded wonderful coming from his lips. She folded her hands in her lap, keeping her eyes firmly on her knotted fingers. Briefly she wondered if she could make it to the door before he caught her, but she quickly discarded that idea as impossible.

"What are you doing here?"

"Healing you." Delia played her sympathy card, hoping that the reminder of what she had just done would buy her leniency. The course growl that rumbled up from Raditz chest told her otherwise.

"Trunks is here. Bulma is trying to free him," she muttered, wishing desperately that she was anywhere but there.

Raditz shifted, and before Delia could control her fight-or-flight instinct she was up off the bed and half way to the door. He caught her, and for a moment she was flying as he lifted her up off her feet. She landed on her back on the bed, three hundred pounds of solid muscle pinning her down.

She pressed her hands frantically against his chest, but all at once she felt drained, unable to fight. She had used all her strength to heal Raditz, and she only had a few reserves left. Raditz didn't seem to notice her exhaustion as he glared down at her, his black eyes boring into her soul. He shifted, and Delia became very aware of the hard prod in her thigh from his erection.

Delia had the frantic urge to explain herself, to make him understand why she had left. She scrambled to make excuses for herself like a kid caught playing hooky. Although in her case, her punishment would be far worse than a spanking.

"Please understand I didn't want to leave, but I had to go. If I hadn't left with Bulma, I would have been dead by dawn." When Raditz didn't respond Delia stilled beneath him as she felt the last of her energy drain away. Sadness filled up her lavender eyes, and she looked away, staring blankly at the pile of clothing in the corner. "You know it's true. You would have never believed that I didn't help her to escape," she whispered, wishing that it wasn't true.

"If you believed that, then why did you tell that boy of yours that he should come to me if he ever needed anything?"

As Raditz's cold voice washed over her, she shuddered. She felt her heart constrict at the mention of Jarrell, and her eyes darted back to collide with his.

"Is he okay?"

"Answer my question and I'll answer yours," Raditz spat back.

Delia squeezed her eyes shut, afraid to look him in the eye while she made her confession. "I knew in my heart that you would never hurt Jarrell. You would never hold something I did against my innocent child."

Raditz's low snarl made her body tense beneath him, and she felt his fingers dig into the soft flesh of her upper arms. "Why do you so readily believe that I would have executed you, Delia? Why do you have so much faith that I will protect some brat child that's not even mine, but murder his own mother? Why do you think that I am so unfeeling?"

The last question was asked with such anguish that Delia's startled eyes flew open, searching Raditz's face for any hint of betrayal. Her already pained heart grew heavier as a wave of nausea washed through her stomach.

"No! No, it's not like that Raditz. I believe that you are a proud and honorable man. I believe that you would serve Vegeta until your dying breath. You are his man."

Raditz let out a muffled roar of anger as he reared back to kneel between her legs. He yanked on her arms, pulling her up into his lap with ease. He glared down at her, shaking her like a small child. Her gold hair become unbound, waving down around her hips. Some loose strands became tangled in Raditz's fingers, and he accidentally pulled them while shaking her.

"Why didn't you ever give me a chance to choose you? You haven't trusted me from the beginning. You set us up to fail. You never gave me the consideration I needed to be the man you wanted. You didn't allow me to be your man." He spat the last word with such bitterness that it stabbed Delia in the gut.

Delia looked up at him wide-eyed and stunned. His face was twisted into such a look of yearning agony that it struck her across the heart.

"But Vegeta…"

He shook her again, cutting her off before she could finish.

"For you…," he choked on his words as he tried again to force them out. "For you…" He couldn't finish; the words couldn't find their way out of his heart. Instead he pulled her up against him, burying his face in her silky white gold hair. He couldn't say what he knew to be true in his heart. For her he would have denied generations of breeding and duty. For her he would have defied a kingdom and scorned a king.

Delia could feel his anguish ripple though his body, as helpless tears flowed down her face. She wrapped her arms around his wide shoulders, winding her fingers through his long hair. She cried brokenly against his shoulder while he held her tightly against him. For one moment she felt like she was in heaven. She was in the arms of the man she loved, and he would never let her go.

After long minutes, Raditz pulled away, embarrassed at his momentary loss of control. When she could finally talk, she tried to distract him to save him from his discomfort.

"You never answered my question," she said softly.

He looked at her a second before he remembered what she was talking about. "The boy is fine. He misses his mother though."

Delia lowered her head, longing for her child echoing through her. She felt a gentle grip on her jaw, prodding her to raise her head to look at Raditz.

"He is not the only one," he whispered meaningfully.

Delia couldn't stop the tears that squeezed out from the corners of her eyes. How could she have ever doubted this man? Why had she kept him at arms length for so long? Of everyone, Bulma, Jace, all of her so-called friends, he was the only one she could truly trust. As long as he lived he would do everything in his power to protect and cherish her. All she had to do was open her heart and her arms to him.

Delia reached out, wrapping her small hand around a strand of his black hair. "Can you ever forgive me?" She whispered back at him.

Raditz looked down at her hand then back up at her face. A slow wolfish smile spread across his handsome features, Delia shivered again, but this time in anticipation.

"I think I might, but first you are going to have to do some penance. Long, slow and hard," he said wickedly.

Delia smiled up at him, more than willing to do all the penance that he wanted. She tugged on his hair, pulling him down over her as she lay back on the bed.


	17. The Light and the Dark

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ

Warning: Strong language.

Thanks again to LisaB for her fine editing skills.

Chapter Seventeen

The Light and the Dark

Bulma peered through the bars at her son. He was crouched before her with his furry tail wrapped around his feet as he ate a piece of fruit that she had given him. For the last couple of days, with help from Delia, Bulma had been sneaking Trunks food from the kitchens.

Since his capture they had only fed him thin gruel, starving his growing body. He remembered eating meat from when he lived on the planet, so whenever she brought him some he devoured it like a starving wolf. Although he craved meat (the rarer the better,) fruit was still his favorite. His face would light up into a smile whenever she produced a sweet, succulent piece.

When she first handed him the treat, he grabbed it so forcefully that it burst, oozing through his fingers. That didn't bother him at all as he lapped up the meat from between his fingers and down his arm, but Bulma was appalled. Patiently she taught him to grasp the fruit gently in his hand until he no longer even bruised it.

She had slowly been working with her son to gain his trust. Initially he would only snarl when she came near, so she had to carefully push the food through the bars. He would quickly snatch it up, scuttling away to the back of the cage to eat his prize. Now when she appeared he moved to the front of cage, and she was able to very carefully hand him food through the bars.

Today she was going to try something very daring. She was going to touch her son.

Bulma looked down at the bouquet of flowers that she had brought with her. Their petals were the same vibrant blue as her hair and were delicate to the touch. Day after day she spoke to her son, amazed at how quickly he grasped the concept of language. He was already using words, and it was only a matter of time before he strung sentences together.

Yesterday, between mouthfuls of food, Trunks had pointed to her hair, calling it pretty. Bulma hoped to use his fascination with her blue locks to her advantage today.

"Trunks, honey."

Trunks glance up, a hopeful look in his eye. Her heart bled that she couldn't sneak him more food. She knew enough about Saiyan anatomy to know that he needed more food that she could get him. As a Saiyan child grew, they needed to consume ten times their weight in food daily. Trunks was barely getting a third of that.

"Look what mommy brought you."

Bulma held out one of the blue flowers, twirling it in the soft light. Trunks cocked his head to the side, instantly infatuated by its beauty.

"Food?" he chirped.

"No. Flower."

Trunks cocked his head further to the side, unsure of what he was suppose to do with it. Bulma reached through the bars to hand him the flower, being careful not to get her fingers caught in his powerful grip.

As soon as his hand closed around the bloom, he crushed it with his strength. A deep frown appeared on his brow as he looked up at her with wet, shinny eyes.

Bulma was quick to console him. "It's okay. Mommy has another one." She pulled out another flower from the bunch.

"Flowers are delicate. You have to hold it gently like the fruit."

She handed it to him again, and this time he didn't destroy it, but the stem snapped where he pinched it with his fingers. He let out a little growl of frustration that sounded just like his father, making Bulma smile softly.

"Hold it softly. Very softly." She held up another flower, and he instantly dropped the damaged one, reaching for it.

A crease of concentration appeared on his brow as he carefully pinched the stem between his thumb and forefinger. When the bloom remained unharmed, he flashed Bulma a bright smile of victory that made her soul light up. Her baby was so beautiful; she couldn't help but to love him with her whole heart. She wanted nothing more than to get a hug from him.

She pulled a flower from the bunch, holding it up to show him. "Smell." She brought it to her nose, inhaling deeply, sighing when the sweet scent infused her senses.

Trunks mimicked her, his eyes lighting up as he inhaled. "Smell pretty," he exclaimed happily.

Bulma smiled back, lowering her flower to the ground. "Mommy is like the flower. She's delicate. You have to hold her gently."

Slowly, Bulma reached her hand through the bars waiting with baited breath as Trunks placed his palm in hers. She winced as his fingers tightened around hers, and his eyes shot up to peer at her.

"Gently. Mommy, flower."

His grip lightened, and Bulma smiled at him encouragingly. She would have bruises in the morning, but it was worth being able to hold her son's hand. He held her gently as he brought her hand up to his nose to sniff her.

She cocked her head to the side as she watched. He looked up at her, smiling. "Smell pretty."

Bulma laughed, a rich, tinkling sound that filled the whole room. Trunks watched in fascination, and as her amusement died down it occurred to her that he might have never heard a laugh or experienced one himself. The sadness she felt in her heart showed in her face no matter how much she tried to disguise it.

Carefully, she freed her hand from his grip, brushing her fingers against Trunks's cheek. He didn't flinch away like she expected him too, but he did give her a confused look.

"Mommy loves Trunks," Bulma whispered softly.

Trunks's tail twitched as he leaned closer to her hand. "Mommy?" He pointed to her; Bulma nodded in affirmation.

"Trunks?" He motioned to himself.

"Love?" His brow creased, his confusion multiplying in his eyes.

Bulma felt tears well up. She was at a loss on how to explain what love was. How did you describe an emotion? All she wanted to do was gather him up into her arms, and show him what love was. To express it to him the only way she knew how.

"Love." Bulma lowered her hand, pressing it to his heart, while covering her own with her other palm. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she repeated herself.

"Mommy loves Trunks."

Trunks began to wiggle, obviously uncomfortable with her tears. He moved away from her, digging through a pile of furs in the back of the cage to reveal a hidden piece of fruit. He returned, offering the fruit to her with a consoling look on his face.

Bulma smiled at him reassuringly, touched by his generosity. "No. Trunks's food. You keep."

He drew back his hand, devouring the fruit while smiling happily. Spontaneously, Bulma reached through the bars to ruffle his long lavender hair, pleased when he let her do so.

"Mommy has to go, honey." Trunks looked up from his meal, a frown instantly replacing his smile.

"It's okay. I'll be back tomorrow with more food." That seemed to make him happy and he went back to eating, barely noticing as she left.

As Bulma stepped into the shadows, she reactivated her Recombinator, hiding behind her mask once again.

She made her way to the kitchens, her thoughts buzzing rapidly around in her head. It would be only a matter of days before Trunks was tame enough for her to take him out of the cage. He was such a quick learner. It was obvious to her that although his animal nature was brought out by his captors, he was in fact, a gentle and loving boy.

Confident that she would be able to handle Trunks, it left her with one last problem. Something she had avoiding doing for days. She had to go and talk to Vegeta.

She knew that he was there, fighting in the arena. Both Delia and Seventeen had informed her of that fact almost a week ago. Bulma had been shocked. She thought for sure that her mate had been running the universe ragged. She didn't understand what he was doing there, in King Cold's court. Even Raditz wasn't sure why Vegeta had agreed to meet Cold on the planet they had been captured on.

Bulma couldn't imagine Vegeta doing such a thing unless he was sure that he could kill King Cold. Even if that was the case, no amount of madness could overshadow Vegeta's intelligence. It would have been counterproductive to kill Cold and claim his domain while his own still lay in shambles. Vegeta would have considered that. Vegeta considered everything that had to do with power and bloodshed. It was emotion that tended to fuck him up.

Bulma slipped into the kitchens just in time for the afternoon meal. Raditz was picking up Vegeta's platter as she was returning her empty one to Delia. Without a word to her friend, Bulma turned to follow Raditz out the door, missing Delia's concerned look.

In the hall, Bulma called to Raditz, stopping him to face her. Their eyes met for a long minute and with a curt nod, Raditz handed her the tray. She took it silently and made her way down the corridor to the slave pens under the arena.

The beauty of being disguised as a slave was that it allowed her the freedom to go almost anywhere she pleased. No one questioned a servant that carried a tray, so she was able to slip passed the guards unseen. Once she reached Vegeta's cell it took a few seconds to gain the attention of the guard she needed to let her in. With only a nod and a soft word, he unlocked Vegeta's cell to let her in, locking it behind her.

Bulma didn't have to search the room to find what she was looking for. He was there in front of her, reclining on his cot. His arms were crossed, and his dark features set in a familiar brood that sent her pulse fluttering. He didn't even bother to look at her, assuming that she was what she appeared to be.

She placed the tray on a rough wooden sideboard, taking a step near him. His head twitched subtly to the side, his frown becoming more pronounced.

"Leave. And take that tray with you. I have no need of it."

Now it was Bulma's turn to frown as her concerned eyes scanned down Vegeta's lean body. He was dressed in a purple body suite, a symbol of Cold's ownership -- something she was sure that disgusted him. His was perfectly formed as ever, but she could see where he was thinner than before. He was wasting away, becoming nothing more than an angry shade in the dankness of the dungeon.

Raditz had told her that Vegeta refused to eat, but she had not believed him. She thought back to those many nights they had sat down together at the dinner table. He had eaten with the voracity of a raptor. She couldn't believe that such an appetite could dwindle down to nothing.

"Vegeta," she whispered as she took a step closer.

"Go!" Vegeta flung out his arm, stretching his hand towards her. On the tips of his fingers the blue light of his ki sputtered and died like an overused candle.

Vegeta's face turned red as anger infused every cell in his body. He threw back his head, the tendons in his neck straining as he roared his frustration to the ceiling beams. For the first time Bulma was able to see the collar that stole all of her mate's power. It looked fragile enough for Vegeta to break with one finger, but without access to his ki he was no stronger than a normal human male.

He covered his face with his hands, his muffled shouts echoing around the room, striking her in the heart. Without thinking Bulma dropped her disguise and rushed to his side, grasping his arms to pull his hands away. She couldn't bear to see the man she loved caged once again by his enemies, a prisoner not only of war, but of his mind.

"Vegeta! Vegeta, it's me!"

He lowered his arms, revealing his black eyes rimmed with hatred staring back at her. His shout turned to a growl, an angry, vengeful sound that reminded her of rabid wolves about to pounce on a helpless doe.

He pushed her away, his eyes widening as he made contact with her solid body. She flew across the room, hitting the floor hard and sliding on her butt until she slammed into the far wall. The breath whooshed out of her as she lay there gasping like a beached fish.

Vegeta scrambled to her side, staring down at her with disbelief.

"You're real," he muttered with real awe that only served to piss off Bulma more than she was at the moment.

"No shit, dumbass. Did you have to toss me across the room to confirm it?"

Vegeta's astonishment melted away to reveal true anger. He bent down, wrapping his fists around the voluminous robes that surrounded her. She was drowning in her clothing without the bulk from her disguise as an old, heavyset woman.

He hauled her up until they were nose to nose, pushing her against the wall, and pinning her there with his fists. He kept his body separate from her, using only her clothing to hold her.

"How dare you! How dare you show your face," he hissed down at her.

"I'm here to help you!" Bulma shouted back, ignoring the fear that unfurled in her belly. Always she had known that Vegeta was a dangerous man. He was feared and hated, but she had never felt those things for him--until now.

His ebony eyes turned red and Bulma could see the fires of madness deep inside them. He lifted her further off the ground, shaking her above his head like a rag doll.

"I don't need your help. I don't need you!" he spat venomously.

Suddenly, as if he decided that just by holding her he was infecting himself somehow, he tossed her across the room. Thankfully she landed on the cot this time.

Bulma sat up in the bed, fear clenching her fists closed around the single ragged blanket.

"I don't need you either!" She screamed, unaware of the tears that streamed down her face.

All at once the thin sheet of ice that all of her emotions hid behind cracked and shattered inside her soul. Her tremendous grief from losing her son and leaving her mate came forward in a tidal wave of sorrow. Her tears turned into gut-wrenching sobs that shook her entire body. Between shuddering breaths she screamed at Vegeta, trying to convince herself more than him.

"I don't need you either, you bastard. I don't need anyone! I'm Bulma Briefs. I can take care of myself. I always have and I always will. I don't need anyone."

She balled up the blanket that she was clutching, holding it against her stomach as if she was trying to stop her insides from falling out of the hole in her heart. She hung her head, muffling her face in the blanket.

"I don't need you, but that doesn't stop me from wanting you," she confessed to the blanket, her muted voice barely audible.

Vegeta, who had been standing silently, crossed the room in a whirlwind of anger to stand over her, shaking his fist.

"Want! What do you know of want? The only thing you have ever wanted in your life was the destruction of Frieza, and when I gave you that you still weren't happy. You had to run off, acting like the superior smart-ass bitch you think you are. But you are nothing Bulma. Nothing but a whore that sells her body to get what she wants."

Bulma's eyes widened at his words, her self-pitying tears drying up. She rose up to her knees so she could bring herself even with Vegeta. Without fear she slapped him as hard as she could across the face, ignoring the sting of pain in her palm. She hit him with such force that it whipped his chin to the side, and the print of her hand was instantly visible on his cheek.

"I am not a whore, you fucker!" She screamed so loudly that her voice took on a shrill pitch. "I slept with you because I loved you."

Vegeta's head was still cocked to the side, and Bulma watched as his lips twisted into a sneer of scorn. He turned his head to face her, his black eyes boring into her.

"Loved?" he questioned softly, his fingers rising to toy with her collar. He had seen the gleam of stone, and he had to confirm what he dared to think. He pulled away her clothing, and there around her slender neck was the Torque of Kingship.

Bulma lowered her head, brushing her fingers over his. "I wear it to be close to you. I want to keep it safe for you, so you can claim it along with everything that you deserve in life."

"What is that you think that I deserve, woman?" He stared deeply into her blue eyes, his fingers unmoving from around her neck.

She knew what he wanted, but it was so hard. There was so much pain and distrust between them. The man she had known back on Primas had changed. He was no longer a man driven by the need for revenge, but a monster who destroyed everything he touched. For all of her love, for all of her faith in him, he had become the one thing that broke her heart. A tyrant.

"I want to love you, Vegeta."

Bulma could barely stand the hurt that formed in Vegeta's eyes, before he shut it away behind his ever present mask. Anger took the place of his hurt, and she braced herself for the onslaught that she knew was coming.

"Love. What a stupid word. That word is more of a lie than anything Frieza ever said."

"It's not a lie, Vegeta. I loved you. Why can't you believe that?" Bulma pounded her fists into the tops of her thighs, frustrated beyond caring for her own safety.

"Because love would imply trust, and you never trusted me Bulma. Not once!"

"That's not true. I trusted you to kill Frieza. I trusted you to take care of our son after I was gone."

Hurt flashed in Vegeta's eyes at her words. "Yes, but once you were resurrected that trust ended. I tried to claim the throne, not just for me but for us both, and you blocked me at every turn. You didn't believe that I wanted to have Trunks returned to us. You didn't believe that I…cared." The last word was choked out between clamped lips. Vegeta whirled away to face the door, bitterness at his mate stewing inside of him.

Bulma wilted under his throbbing anger. Slowly she crawled off the bed to stand beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I believed that you wanted Trunks returned. But…" She couldn't finish the thought, afraid of admitting the betrayal.

"But?" he snapped, still facing away from her.

Unable to escape, Bulma had to answer. They had to lance the wounds or they would never heal.

"But you are the Saiyan Prince. Uncompromising and brutal. Once I believed that you loved me, but that feeling faded under your fierce, unreasonable possessiveness. You wanted to lock me away, unseen and unheard. I became a thing to you. A priceless treasure stored in a vault, only to be taken out on special occasions. How could I believe that you cared for our son when I couldn't believe that you cared for me?"

Vegeta's back was rigid under her palm so she let it fall back to her side. She lowered her gaze, noticing that Vegeta's own hands were clenched into tight fists at his side.

"How could I trust you?" She whispered to his back.

He turned, his face drawn into a mask of cold steel. His features were so frozen that when he spoke it was through tight lips that barely moved.

"Me? How could I trust you? You closed your mind to me. You closed everything to me. After seeing how you plotted against Frieza, how could I not believe that you would do the same to me? I would have given you everything you wanted, indulged your every spoilt demand, if you had just let me. I would have returned Trunks to you, if you had just given me the time to do so."

Vegeta reached down to grab Bulma by the upper arms. His fingers pinched her painfully, but she barely noticed she was so riveted by his speech.

"But instead you shut me out. You turned against me like I was the enemy. In my entire life I have had no one. I have needed no one. With you, for the first time I could sleep through the night. For the first time in twenty years I felt at home."

The tears began to stream down Bulma's face again as his words reverberated in her soul.

"For the first time I had a friend," he finished, and Bulma's heart broke.

Vegeta dropped his hands, turning from her again. "I have never spoken so freely before in my life. Always I have been tormented by my thoughts, haunted by my emotions, so I have locked them away. Somehow you found the key, and since then I have been tortured daily."

"For you I could have been a better man, if you had just trusted me." Vegeta paused, choking on his own breath. "I want you to leave. We have nothing more to discuss; we are done." Vegeta brushed passed her, returning to his cot.

Bulma dried her tears, wiping her nose on her sleeve. She stood for long moments in the middle of the room, the feeling of loss swamping her. In one single moment of clarity she knew that she couldn't let something as precious as what she had right there in that room end. She wouldn't let go without a fight.

Bulma turned, crossing the room to Vegeta. He sat on the bed, and for the first time ever, he looked beaten. His hands dangled down between his knees, his head hanging to his chest.

She knelt down before him, taking his cold hands into hers.

"You had your say, and now I have something to say too." She tugged at his hands, hoping that he would lift his head to look at her, but he ignored her.

"Trust is never instantaneous. Love at first sight is a myth. Some things take time and time was something that we never had. It can take years for married couples to build a trusting foundation, while some never achieve such a thing. We had only a few short months."

At that Vegeta raised his head in clear disagreement. "We lived together for nearly a year, woman."

"Yes we did. A full year where we did out best to avoid each other unless we were in a public room. Months of trying not to touch each other for fear that we would spontaneously combust." Bulma smiled softly at that, hoping that Vegeta would return the sentiment. He did not, but his features did seem to soften at the memory.

"We had one night of blissful passion, and then we were torn apart by our vengeful master." Vegeta rolled his eyes at her expressive statement. She was such a _woman_. Blissful passion, indeed.

"The only intimate time that we had together was when we traveled to get Trunks. That is truly the only time that I can think of that we spent time together as a couple---as lovers. I don't know what happened while I was dead, but you changed. Yes, before you were a mean bastard, but you were reasonable. After we returned from trying to retrieve our son, you became obsessed.

"You wanted to leave me!" Vegeta broke in. Bulma calmed him with a hand on his heart, finally able to make eye contact with him.

"I understand now that you didn't want to let me go. I should have trusted you to find Trunks, but that is what I am trying to tell you, Vegeta. Trust takes years to build. We fell together into a bed of deception, but fate gifted us with love. We just weren't ready for that gift to be tested so strenuously."

Bulma placed her other hand on Vegeta's chest as she looked up into his eyes. "Vegeta, we just need more time," she whispered softly, her sapphire eyes sparkling with unshed tears and seething emotion.

Time stopped as they held that moment between the beat of their hearts. Bulma was sure that he wanted wrap his arms around her, but then he blinked and the moment was lost. He encircled his fingers around her delicate wrists, pulling her hands down to drop them between his knees. His eyes turned cold, sucking the air from her lungs and freezing her heart.

"You aren't worthy of my time," he whispered deliberately, stabbing her with every word.

Bulma lowered her head in dejection, the feeling of loss returned ten fold. The weight of reality pushed her shoulders towards the floor. Vegeta was rejecting her. They had come too far and risked too much. They had suffered through too much pain to forgive. Together they managed to do the impossible. They freed themselves from a tyrant, fought to unite a universe, and most unbelievable of all, they had managed to destroy the undestroyable---love.

It was over.

Bulma shivered as a veil of ice covered her heart and soul, killing her slowly from the inside out. She rose from the floor, her knees almost buckling under the weight of her sorrow.

"I have found Trunks. I have hired the Red Ribbon Mercenaries to help me. We will be ready to leave in a few days. Be ready when that time comes." She picked up the tray from the sideboard, as she spoke. "So why don't you pull your ass out of that pity fest you're wallowing in and eat something."

She dropped the tray in front of him, ignoring the food that splattered around her feet. She reactivated her Recombinator as she turned to leave. She knocked on the door, waiting quietly as it was opened from the outside by a guard. She walked out on Vegeta without another word being exchanged by either of them. She was so immersed in her misery that she failed to notice the sly smile on the guard's face as he escorted her down the hall.


	18. The InBetween

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ

Thanks to LisaB for editing. Any mistakes are mine, I tend to diddle around after getting my edits back. smacks her own hand

Chapter Eighteen

The In-Between

Vegeta's limp body dangled between two of King Cold's guards as they dragged him into the room. His once proud, jutting locks had been shorn to the skull, leaving only dark stubble. His body was riddled with bruises and cuts that testified to the brutal treatment to which he had been subjected for the last forty-eight hours.

But all of his bruises, all the pain they had inflicted on him, that was not what had finally broken him. His tail, his pride and joy, had been viciously cut from his body, the stub seared at the end to prevent it from growing back.

The guards dropped Vegeta to his knees before King Cold. Instead of struggling to stand like his once strident pride would have demanded, Vegeta knelt before the King, his head hanging to his chest in dejection. His royal Saiyan blood dripped to the frozen ground, a splash of crimson on the cold white ice.

Vegeta admitted defeat. Everything that he had, everything that he was, had been taken from him. He had fallen from the pinnacle of his greatest victory, the defeat of Frieza, to the depths of hell. His pride had been stripped from him. His mate was gone, his son would be the servant of his enemy, and his empire had crumbled. He was nothing, and without his tail, he wasn't even a Saiyan.

"Vegeta, I bet you are wondering why you are here. As much as I have enjoyed watching you suffer for the last two days, there is something I want to show you." Cold's jovial voice held a sharp edge of malice that couldn't be hidden. Vegeta knew that tone all to well. It heralded the beginning of a fresher hell. "Something important, Vegeta."

When Vegeta refused to raise his head, one of the guards palmed his skull, sinking his fingers into the soft flesh just below his eyebrows. Vegeta peered up at King Cold with his one good eye, the other being swollen shut.

The lizard king stood over him like a conqueror, and Vegeta could feel the bile that boiled in his stomach rise up. King Cold's red cape fluttered in the breeze and Vegeta could just barely see beyond him to notice that they were in an underground ice cave. It was lit with white lights, making the room so blaringly bright that it blurred Vegeta's vision for a moment.

To Vegeta's surprise the King stepped away, revealing a pool of water nestled in a basin of ice. To the ceiling a pulley system had been rigged, and he observed a sadistic man at a wheel to the side of the pond.

"Show him." Cold's hissing tones slid down Vegeta's spine, and he had a ghost sensation of trepidation in his missing tail.

The sadistic man put his shoulder to the wheel, turning it slowly. The ice covered rope, slowly began to rise out of the water, revealing white hands, then inch by agonizing inch the person's head surfaced from the water.

Vegeta felt his heart stop has blue hair straggled down a white face that was turning gray at the edges. Bulma's once shiny red lips were as blue as her hair and dark rings circled her closed eyes. A cry rose up in his throat, but it withered without air in his lungs. He tried to tell himself to breathe, but his body wouldn't respond.

She was half way out of the water before she sputtered, struggling desperately to take air into her frozen body. Her leg kicked out in a reflexive response that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with her body preparing to die. Water spilled out from her cold lips and her eyes fluttered, but didn't open.

"I thought you should see this." Cold said slyly as he peered down at his son's killer.

"Imagine my surprise when I received a report two days ago that you had a visitor in your cell. The mysterious, untouchable Bulma Briefs. She disappeared off the radar months ago. One day she was in your court, and then poof, gone."

Vegeta ignored the lizard, barely even noticing his own warm blood that was pooling beneath him. He only had eyes for his half-drowned mate.

Annoyed at his lack of response, King Cold kicked Vegeta in the side, knocking him to the ground. "Are you listening to me, Vegeta, or were my men too enthusiastic in their job?"

As Vegeta lay on the ground, his eyes focused on the other side of the room. Kakarot stood there, his arms folded behind him, a blank expression on his face that couldn't quite hide the pain in his eyes. Vegeta looked away from him disgust, his Saiyan instinct to rule rearing up inside of him. He wanted to pull himself up and beat the life from the traitor, but he couldn't find the will to do so inside him.

As he looked away, he saw a large cage in the middle of the room. Small hands were wrapped around the bars, and piercing blue eyes peered out from the shadows. Without a doubt Vegeta knew that it was his son, and he was watching.

Slowly Vegeta struggled to his knees, but before he could gain his feet, two guards clamped their hands on his shoulders, holding him down. The collar around his neck burned as it stole his ki, leaving him helpless to their touch.

Finally Vegeta raised his head to his captor. "What do you want, Cold?"

The words whispered through dry, cracked lips, and no matter how he tried, Vegeta couldn't muster the authority he needed to sound threatening. Cold chuckled down at him, cocking his hands on his hips.

"Oh, we'll be getting to that soon, Vegeta. Very, very soon."

Bulma struggled against the cold, wet darkness that pressed down on her chest like a millstone. She swam to the surface of her consciousness, choking on the blackness as it filled her mouth and nose, streaming into her lungs. She fought to open her eyes and past the darkness she saw the barest fraction of light. She swam towards the pinprick, slitting her eyes as it became brighter.

Suddenly she was no longer drowning, and she sucked in air greedily. She blinked, but all she could see was a white fog, and in a distance she could hear muffled voices. Slowly, on wobbly legs, she walked towards them. With every step her feet disappeared into a white mist and she could see nothing behind or before her.

She followed the voices until eventually a figure formed in the mist. As she drew closer she saw a man who had pink skin and a swath of purple hair down the center of his scalp. He ignored her, looking at the ground as she stepped up beside him. Recognition jagged through her as memories of her death came sweeping back.

"Supreme Kai," she whispered in awe.

Instead of looking up at her like she expected, he clucked his tongue in a disappointed manner, continuing to peer down at the ground. Bulma followed his gaze, blinking when she realized that she was standing on the edge of the world looking down through layers of mist until a scene of mortal players became clear.

Bulma fell to her knees, grasping the cloudy edge, while trying desperately to control her panicked breathing. She could see into the room where her family was being held. Vegeta was on his knees before the imposing Ice-jin king, her baby boy was pacing his cold iron cage like a trapped animal, and she could see herself, hanging like a wet rag doll, unmoving, seemingly dead. She could see it all.

"We had a contract, you and I." Supreme Kai rocked on his heels as he tucked his hands behind his back. "A contract that you broke."

Bulma slapped the palm of her hand over the rune on her chest. She remembered everything with crystal clarity now---the itch in the back of her mind that she couldn't reach, the promise she couldn't remember. The rune was kanji for Kai. It was supposed to serve as a reminder in the mortal world of why she was there. Of the promise that she had made to save Vegeta's life.

"We agreed to allow you to visit Vegeta when you were dead, to offer him encouragement and support. We let you appear to him in your corporal form while he fought against Frieza on Namek. Against our better judgment we let you help Vegeta tap his full potential. But there was a price for that Bulma, don't you remember?"

"Yes. Yes, I remember," she whispered frailly.

Yes, she most surely remembered. The Kais hadn't wanted to let Vegeta become super Saiyan, but Bulma knew that was the only way that he could defeat Frieza. They were afraid that with his new found power that he would destroy the universe, flooding the nether plane with tortured souls.

She had begged, on her hands and knees, begged the gods to let her help him. To let her go back to the mortal realm as a specter that only Vegeta could see so she could lead him to the path of victory. So she could show him that love had all the power that he needed to win.

They had agreed, but on one condition. In their godly wisdom they knew that Vegeta would wish her back to life. If Vegeta were to win the battle then Bulma would be resurrected. Once Bulma returned to life, she would not be allowed to choose another path. She chose Vegeta in death, so she must choose him life. She could never leave him. Only in her presence did Vegeta stem his violent tendencies. Only when holding her hand did Vegeta dream of being something other than a tyrant. Her duty was to go back to the mortal plane, continuing to show Vegeta the path of love. A duty that she had failed.

Instead of staying by her mate's side, and giving him the support he needed, she had abandoned him.

"We put our trust in you, and you failed us Bulma. That is so very disappointing." Supreme Kai looked down at her a disapproving frown. "All of this is your fault."

The words rang through Bulma's heart like a death knell. She balled her fists up on her thighs as she continued to look down at the tragic scene of her family. Tears of remorse rolled down her cheeks, dripping off her chin to disappear into the mists.

"But you knew," she sobbed. "You knew that my son would have been taken. How could do that to us? After everything, how could you do that?"

He spread his arms wide a large grin on his face. "We are gods, we can do as we like."

"Darbura! Get you gone." A young voice rang out and Bulma turned, her jaw falling open when she saw that an exact replica of the man standing beside her was behind her as well. The newcomer was followed by a larger, pink man who crossed his arms angrily. The new Supreme Kai had his fists cocked on his hips, his mouth twisted into an annoyed line.

"What? There's no harm in talking. I was just pointing out the error of her ways."

Bulma looked back at the Supreme Kai that she had been talking to but he had transformed into a tall, ugly man with red skin and a black beard.

"You were tormenting the poor girl," the real Kai responded.

"Well, that is what I do best, angel boy." Darbura smiled.

"Get you gone, before I cast you out!" Supreme Kai threatened.

Darbura's face clouded as he growled at his adversary. "I'm allowed here just the same as you."

"Kibito."

The large man with Supreme Kai moved forward and Darbura stepped back, right off the edge of the world. He hung there a minute looking down with disgust.

"Dammit," he muttered right before rocketing down through the mists and out of sight. Bulma looked over the edge, but all she saw was the frozen room where her family waited for her.

She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, gaining her attention. Supreme Kai was bending down to help her up, a concerned look on his face.

"He didn't upset you too much did he?"

Bulma couldn't stop fresh tears from falling as the guilt hit her in the gut. She leaned heavily on the Kai as she fought to gather her weak legs beneath her.

"It's all my fault. All this suffering, because I couldn't do as I was told," Bulma sobbed.

"There, there." Kai patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Don't listen to a word that nasty demon had to say."

"It's true, isn't it?" Bulma looked up at him with watery eyes. His expression grew pained, and when he didn't answer Bulma began to sob harder.

"Now stop that. It's more complicated than right and wrong. Do you think we sent you back without knowing that this could happen?"

Bulma stifled her cries to look up at him. They had moved away from the edge and were walking into the mists, although Bulma didn't remember standing up.

"You knew that this was going to happen?" she questioned.

"We knew that it was a possibility. Everything and anything is possible."

"Possible. Didn't you know for certain?"

Kai shook his head. "Only destiny is a certainty."

Bulma's brow creased as she tried to understand what he was saying to her.

"But wasn't this our destiny?"

"No, the situation that you are in right now is free will. Look here." King Kai produced a knotted string from thin air. "Pretend that this is your life. The knots represent certain events in your life that are destiny."

"So our lives are preordained?" Bulma glanced around her, realizing that they had made their way into a forest made of silver. The shiny, veined trunks of the trees gleamed in the mists, and beads of dew sparkled on the leaves.

"No, life is choice."

Bulma threw up her hands in frustration. "I don't understand."

"Well, for instance, it was your destiny to meet Vegeta and have Trunks. Even if Earth had never been destroyed by Frieza, Vegeta would have found his way to you, and you would have conceived a child. But Frieza made a _choice_ to attack Earth, and that altered the path of your life."

"Watch this." Supreme Kai reached above his head, pulling a wide silver leaf down to them. Beads of dew rolled down the side, pooling in the center. Bulma creased her brow, looking up at the Kai in question.

"Look closely."

Bulma peered back down at the leaf, awed when the pool of water began to shimmer then form into a picture. Through the water she was able to see Eighteen as she bathed in a deep tub in an exotic garden. Behind her a small man with thick black hair washed her back almost reverently. Eighteen's mouth moved, startling Bulma when she realized that she was able to hear her words.

"Make sure that I am spotless. I will not tolerate any slack from you," Eighteen said waspishly.

"As you wish, Mistress," the man replied.

They both raised their heads as three men entered the room unexpectedly. The small man moved quickly to throw a towel over Eighteen to preserve her modestly, but the woman didn't seem to notice.

"You will come with us. You are to be the entertainment for tonight's feast."

Without waiting for Eighteen's reply the man who spoke stalked up to her, grabbing her by the arm to pull her from the tub.

Eighteen pulled her arm back from the man, indignant fury etched across her face. "I am no one's entertainment. I am here to serve King Cold and no one else," she spat at the guard.

"You are here to do as our King dictates. Now get out." The man adjusted his grip on Eighteen's arm, viciously pulling her from the tub. She stumbled to her knees, and Bulma could see the flash of metal around her neck. Like Vegeta she wore a collar that stole her power, making her helpless.

"Freeze." Supreme Kai ordered from beside her, and the scene in the leaf stilled. Bulma looked up at Kai expectantly.

"Now this is where choice comes into play. Do you see that man?" Kai pointed to the small, black-haired man frozen in the scene. Bulma nodded.

"His name is Krillian, and he has been in love with Eighteen since he laid eyes on her. He is a human just like you. When he was taken, he was training to be a powerful martial artist, but his time here under Ice-jin rule has weakened his spirit and withered his hope. He hasn't used his ki in nearly ten years."

Bulma squint her eyes to get a better look at the man. He didn't seem to be anything special to her. He would barely come to her chin, and she wasn't a tall woman.

"He has a choice. He can watch as those men take his love away, and she will never give him a second thought. Their lives will pass by each, never touching. Or he can fight for her, be badly beaten, he may even die, but for a moment they will share something very special. They will share a moment of love. Eighteen will see Krillian for what he really is. A loving, caring man who would die for her. If he survives, their love will be complete.

Bulma's eyes widened, as she absorbed the scene with a new sense of fascination. Slowly as if on an old movie reel the scene started again. The guards pulled a struggling Eighteen to her feet, ignoring the man who stood silently to the side. Suddenly, without warning, Krillian exploded in a nova ring of golden light. The blast of ki blew from his body, ramming the guards, throwing them to the ground.

Krillian tugged Eighteen behind him as he stood over the men, panting with the strain of mastering his ki. The guards rebounded to their feet, murder written on their faces. They jumped on Krillian from all sides, beating him viciously. As he went down, the pool of water in the leaf dimmed and the scene faded.

"Choice has the ability to change everything. Everyone who makes a choice affects the lives of others, but they can't alter destiny."

"So it was destiny that they fell in love?"

"No, it was destiny that Krillian fall in love with Eighteen, not for her to fall in love with him. It was his choice to make a great sacrifice to prove that love to Eighteen. If he had not made that choice, they would not have come together. If they had met under different circumstances, say on Earth, Krillian would have still loved her, but he would have had to sacrifice something to prove it.

"So what you are saying is that there are certain things that we are destined to accomplish, but there many different paths to get there."

Kai smiled at her. "Exactly. You are a brilliant child."

They continued walking until trail that they were on opened up into a small glade. A huge moon shone down, reflecting off a circular pool of water in the center. On the far side a unicorn raised its head from sipping the water. It gleamed silver from the tip of its horn to the curve of his hoof. Its intelligent silver eyes winked in the moonlight before it bounded away into the forest.

"Is this heaven?" Bulma whispered, awed by the sight.

"No, this is The In-Between."

Bulma frowned at the Kai. "In-between what?

"In-between everything. Heaven and hell. Light and dark. Goodness and evil."

"Oh." Bulma still didn't understand, but wisdom kept her mouth shut. There were just some things that mortals shouldn't know.

Supreme Kai took her arm, leading her to the pool of water. It was flat and so smooth that it could be a sheet of polished mirror and not water at all. Without coaxing, Bulma sank to her knees, staring deeply into the pool. Eventually the room where she hung limp and lifeless became clear.

"Am I dead?"

Kai placed a comforting hand on he shoulder as he stood over her. "No, child. Now watch." Kai pointed to the pool, and the reflection in the water shimmered. The room became smaller until Bulma could only see the bent and battered form of her mate as he knelt on the ice.

Her heart clenched as she struggled to hold back her tears. He looked so broken, as though he could never be put back together. The need to go to him, to comfort him exploded with an urgency inside of her.

"Please. I know I failed last time, but please let me go to him."

"I cannot."

Bulma reached back to grab Supreme Kai's pant leg, her pleading eyes wet with tears. "Please, I am begging you. He needs me."

Kai brushed a gentle hand through her hair as he looked down at her.

"When Vegeta was on Namek he needed you. He needed to know that someone believed he was worthwhile. He needed someone to fight for. Love is what he needed to help him find the strength. Your love. But now…" Supreme Kai paused, looking sadly at Vegeta's fallen form.

"But, what?" Bulma's fist tightened on his pants.

"But now, Vegeta has to realize that he alone is worth fighting for. All of his life he has been fighting for others. For the Saiyan people. For his father. For his pride. For you. Now he has fight for himself. He has to learn to love himself. He has to make the choice to accept himself, before he can move on. That is something he has to decide on his own, without coaxing from you."

Supreme Kai's words squeezed her heart. She understood what he was saying, but his words also filled her with fear. She was terrified that she would never see Vegeta again. That she would never be able to tell him how sorry she was for leaving him.

"Am I going to die today?" she whispered on a shallow breath.

The image zoomed away from Vegeta to show the entire room.

"You will not die, but your life is not your own."

"What does that mean?"

"Life is nothing more than a string of choices interrupted by beads of destiny." Kai murmured the words to her as he ran his fingers through her hair like a comforting father.

"Your life is affected by choice. Everyone in that room has a choice to make. The outcome of those choices will affect the rest of your life. From this day forward you will either be a queen or a slave."

Bulma swallowed as she peered hard at the people who would choose her path in life. She was but a bystander to fate. Her life had come down to nothing more than a string of choices, made by people who may or may not care for her.


	19. Exorcism

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ

Thanks to LisaB for her beta skills.

Chapter Nineteen

Exorcism

Goku shifted his weight nervously as he watched the scene around him. King Cold was kicking Vegeta like a stray dog, the kid was snarling like a wild animal making the two guards next to him very nervous, but it wasn't the chaos that held Goku's complete attention.

It was the woman. She was strung up by her hands, muttering to herself, her words barely a whisper. She was forgotten by everyone, including her mate. Only Goku heard her lonely mantra, but that was probably because she wasn't speaking a language that anyone else in the room understood. A language that Goku hadn't heard since his boyhood. In the secluded darkness of the night, he and Chi-Chi would whisper words of love, but it had been years since they had spoken their native dialect freely.

Goku's frozen heart swelled, and a longing that he hadn't felt in years bloomed in his chest, warming him from the inside out. The need to do_ good_. The need to fight for a cause, for the safety and protection of those he loved. He had turned away from the goodness in his heart; fear for his wife kept him cowering in the dark. Fear of King Cold claiming her as his concubine, to be used and tortured at his twisted discretion.

He had done his best to deny his heart, to ignore the destiny he heard calling him. He became Kakarot. A Saiyan warrior who did the bidding of his master. Every day a piece of his heart died, more of his love for Chi-Chi disappeared like sand to a voracious ocean. He wanted to protect her, to love her and their son, but he couldn't stop the resentment that festered in his chest. He wasn't supposed to be Kakarot. He was supposed to be Goku. A warrior, a protector---a savior.

The woman muttered, and Goku cast a worried look towards King Cold. She was talking to God now, asking him to let her come back so she could be with the man she loved. She was pleading, but she was ignored by everyone except Goku.

Goku's thoughts were interrupted when Cold landed a brutal kick to Vegeta's side, sending him sliding in front of him. He looked down at the man who claimed to be his king. Like himself, he was Saiyan, an enemy of the Ice-jin. Raditz, his own brother had come to him, asking why he defied his heritage, but Goku had no answer. He wasn't Saiyan; he was human.

Goku glanced back at the woman, the _human_ woman, then back to Vegeta.

She had chosen Vegeta, an arrogant, deadly man, to be her husband. From the tangled words that she spoke, he was able to glean that she loved him very much. A humble human woman had risen to be queen of the Saiyan people, and if Vegeta had his way, she would rule the universe as well. A human as empress. A new start, a new beginning. Her blood would start a dynasty, guaranteeing the survival of the human race for at least a few more generations. They may eventually become extinct, but they would never be forgotten. One of their own would be immortalized in the annals of time as one of the most powerful, influential beings in the universe.

Goku watched as Vegeta struggled to his knees once again. Blood ran freely down his face, and both his eyes were tightly clenched to block out the pain.

When they had fought, Goku had sensed a great power within Vegeta that he had been unwilling to release. If he had given it his all, he could have easily defeated Goku, but something held him back. A sadness, a darkness in his soul. Now the collar around his neck stunted his power. While it remained firmly in place he would never be able to achieve Super Saiyan; he would never be able to rise up from the ground to beat King Cold to death with his bare fists. He was a prisoner, just like Goku.

King Cold stalked up to Vegeta, pulling his head back so he could look him in the eye.

"You're pathetic, Vegeta. You are nothing more than vermin that needs to be exterminated, but before I do that I will make sure that you suffer as I have suffered."

King Cold pushed Vegeta's head away, to point at the dangling woman. Vegeta remained kneeling, staring blankly at the nearly lifeless form of his mate.

"You took my son away from me, so let me take something of yours," Cold spat. "Lower her," he ordered his man at the wheel.

At his command, an ungodly howl rose up from the cage that held Trunks. With supreme effort, Vegeta turned his head so he could watch his son. The feral boy was racing from side to side in the cage, rattling the bars as hard as he could while howling at the top of his lungs. His tail lashed angrily behind him, and his long mane of lavender hair was nearly standing on end.

"Mommy! Flower!" he screamed repeatedly as he paced the cage, looking for any exit.

Everyone's brow creased as they tried to make sense of the boy's ramblings, but in the end they turned away, unconcerned with a child that was trapped behind bars.

As the water crept up Bulma's legs, Trunks became even more frantic. His cries were deafening, and above the din Goku could hear Cold shouting for someone to shut the child up.

The two guards who stood next to the cage looked at each other sheepishly until the men who had dragged Vegeta into the room joined them. The four men converged on the cage, unsure of how they were going to accomplish their task, but determined just the same.

Trunks came to a standstill in the center of his cage, his head whipping back and forth between his mother and the men who wanted to hurt him. Goku gasped as he felt a spike in the child's power that made his stomach jump. Trunks hunkered down, baring his sharp fangs while clenching his hands into tight fists at his sides. From nowhere, an immense power rose up inside of him, bursting through his very skin.

There was a blinding flash of light, and Goku barely had time to brace himself before he was hit with a tidal wave of ki that nearly knocked him off his feet. The four men who were nearest to Trunks were thrown violently back, their bodies hitting the far wall, and falling to the ice, broken.

In that instant there was chaos in the room. King Cold was shouting orders while men were scrambling for safety. Trunks was still screaming for his mommy at the top of his lungs, and through it all both Goku and Vegeta sat unnoticed.

Goku looked at the man who was still crouched at his feet. He seemed to be in a daze, not even the ferocity of his son's power had attracted his attention. He was just staring blankly at the frozen ground.

Goku looked up, silently watching as King Cold marched over to the boy's cage intent on punishing him. Goku thought back to his childhood, and his days spent training with Master Roshi. Earth had been a beautiful planet before it had been conquered. The human race had its flaws, but it had perfections too. It hadn't deserved to be crushed beneath the feet of the Ice-jin like nothing more than a cockroach.

He tightened his hands into fists, and in the distance he felt the lingering caress of Chi-Chi's mind. It had been ages since they shared their thoughts. Both were afraid of the intimacy. She was afraid of what she might see, and he was afraid of what he might show her, but for just a moment he felt her. She was warm, loving and caring. Most of all, she was understanding. They could no longer live as slaves. Their first born was already training in the art of murder, and the child in her womb would be no different if they didn't risk it all to save themselves.

He had to choose. The ultimate damnation of his family or uncertain freedom, even at the cost of their lives.

Goku looked down at Vegeta again, the gray metal of his collar gleaming dully in the light. Without another moment of hesitation he bent down, wrapping his fingers around the clasp. With short jerk he broke it, watching mutely as it fell to the ground between Vegeta's bent knees.

Goku leaned down to whisper into Vegeta's ear. "It's up to you now. You have the power. Use it."

Without looking back, Goku jumped into the middle of the fray, his black hair shining to gold as he lashed out at King Cold with a ki infused fist.

Vegeta stared blindly at the broken collar. Distantly he could hear the sounds of battle all around him, but it couldn't pierce his muffled consciousness. He had watched dully as they lowered his mate into the cold water once again. He was sure that this time she would not survive. Her slender body was fragile, and she needed to be handled with care. How he had come to love such a delicate being he still didn't know.

As the awesome power of his son had swept through the room, he knew that he should feel some sort of paternal pride. The toddler could quite possibly be the most powerful Saiyan born. Vegeta had no doubt that it was the mixing of his blood and the woman's that made it so. As the boy's power drifted away, however, Vegeta had felt nothing, no pride, no anger, not even the pain of his body, just emptiness inside and out.

He was broken. The evil Ice-jin had finally won. The woman was undoubtedly dead, and if she wasn't she would be soon. By the look of terrifying anger on King Cold's face, the boy would meet the same fate shortly. Vegeta had nothing left to fight for.

His race was dead, his home destroyed. From the corner of his eye, Vegeta watched as Kakarot was slammed into the wall, buried in a hole nearly six feet deep. By the end of the day, the last of the Saiyans would also be gone, becoming nothing more than a forgotten legend lost in the shadows of time.

Vegeta looked back down at the collar as more of his royal blood fell to the ice. Slowly, starting at the tips of his toes, his ki returned to his body. It climbed his legs, wound its way through his arms and infused his chest.

He should rejoice at its return, but he ignored it as it crept down the rocky pathway that led to the golden light deep inside of him. The dragon awoke, lifting its lazy head to open one teal eye and one black.

Why should he even bother to stand? There was no reason for him to fight. He had been defeated, getting up now would just make him a laughing stock on top of it.

"Yes, Vegeta. Why even bother?"

Vegeta lifted his head to stare at his tormenter. Frieza stood before him, healthy and proud, without a blemish on him. Vegeta blinked, willing the specter away, but it stubbornly remained. He glanced to the side, but Frieza remained unnoticed to everyone else in the room.

"Don't worry, my dear boy. It's just you and me down here."

"Go away," Vegeta croaked, revolted at the sight of the lizard who stood before him, a symbol of everything dark and terrible in his life. Yet at the same time, he reminded Vegeta of his greatest conquest. For a short time Vegeta had had it all. Victory, pride, honor…love. Then it was gone, slipping through his hands like blood from a wound.

"Oh, don't be like that, dear boy. You know that I only speak the truth," Frieza said slyly.

"You never spoke the truth!" Vegeta spat, ignoring the blood mingled spit that splattered the ice.

Frieza crouched down until he was nose to nose with Vegeta, his thin purple lips stretched into a mockery of a grin.

"Oh, but I do. I speak the truth when it causes the most pain, and the truth Vegeta, is that you are a loser. You're worthless. Your father knew it, and in the end, even your people knew it. And that mate of yours…" Frieza trailed off as he peered meaningfully at the near lifeless body of Bulma. "Well, she eventually learned it too, didn't she?"

Vegeta had followed Frieza's stare, but as he muttered his last words, he could no longer find the strength to hold his head up. His head sunk to his chest, the feeling of a thousand demons on his back riding him hard.

Frieza was right. He was a loser. For a short time he had tasted victory, for once he had been the conqueror, the master, but it was all gone. He had turned into something that he had sworn that he wouldn't: a monster, and now he was paying for his sins.

"You're so sad. It is impossible to think that such a weakling defeated me in battle. Me! The most powerful being in the universe. It must have been a fluke."

Frieza continued to talk, but his words were drowned by the rushing of blood in Vegeta's ears. His vision tunneled, and all he could see was the bright red blood painting the ground beneath him. The roar in his head died down leaving one sentence to echo in the darkness of his soul

_It must have been a fluke._

Memories came flooding back to Vegeta. All the hours he had spent in the gravity room training, pushing himself to the limit, and then stretching beyond that, reaching further, digging deeper, until it was just him and the purity of his body.

How many days had he worked himself until it felt like his muscles would sear away from his melting bones? How many weeks had he spent just honing the perfection of his punches? As he strained under the increased gravity, everything had fallen away: the burden of commanding his last remaining brethren, the disgrace of serving his enemy, the forbidden passion for a single woman, leaving him an empty vessel to be filled with strength and conviction---the strength and conviction to free himself from slavery and become his own man.

He alone was the one who had worked towards the goal of bettering himself---honing his body to his weapon. Bulma had provided him with the tools, but he was the one who used them.

On Namek his mind had suffered a break from his body. For a short time, he had forgotten his quest for vengeance. He had been distracted by his grief, tortured by his memories ---thoughts of his annihilated race, of his recent agony of killing his mate, of the weakness that he perceived in himself ---these kept him from his goal. But in the end he had purged his mind of everything, becoming empty---pure.

In that moment he had achieved greatness. He had done something that no one in his race had done in thousand years. He alone had become the Golden One, ascended, untouchable---godly.

_It must have been a fluke._

"No," Vegeta croaked between bloody lips.

Frieza paused his tirade, peering down at his fallen pet.

"What was that, boy?"

"It was not fluke."

It had been no fluke. Only his conviction to be the best, to be the strongest. He had overcome the adversity of his life, the travesty of the erosion of his soul, to become the most powerful being in the universe. Not Frieza! Him! He was a Super Saiyan. A ruler, a conqueror, a warrior, a god. No one was more powerful than he, and he had proven that when he ripped Frieza's head from his body.

"Oh really?" Frieza smirked, clearly amused. "Don't be upset Vegeta. After all, it's your destiny to fail. No matter how you struggle, you are nothing more than a miserable waste of flesh and bone. You will never be more than what you are. A piece of trash to be kicked around by someone more powerful than you."

A cold wind swept across Vegeta's barren soul, shrieking an echo of Frieza's words. The demons of his sins stood at the edge of the last flickering remnant of light inside of him, frothing with eagerness to snuff the goodness from his soul. Everything that was dark, everything that was evil inside of him, screamed for him to believe the lizard's words, to accept them like a diseased seed into his already weakened heart.

A fluttering of a distant memory crossed his mind, whispering beneath the shrieking of damnation---its mere softness allowing it to be heard. He remembered his greatest accomplishment, the very thing that defined him. Becoming the Legendary was undeniably wondrous, but it was born from generations of breeding, years of training and countless affirmations that it was destined to be so. As fantastic as it was, it was not his greatest achievement.

He saw himself, standing over the broken body of Frieza, one foot planted firmly on his chest. After years of torture, bloody beatings and more dishonor than could have ever been born by any royal before him, Vegeta had finally succeeded where every other being in the universe had failed.

He had defeated Frieza.

With unabashed relish, he had reached down and pulled the still living head from Frieza's body. That was not the action of a hero, but it was one of a man. A living man, who felt pain, anger, and retribution. He was not some merciful, idyllic being that was happy with an apology and a promise to do better. He sought absolution through vengeance and he received it, but this didn't make him a tyrant either. It made him sane.

In that moment, when he killed his tormentor, he had been free. No longer was he a slave, and he was not yet a king. He was a man who had finally won. That was his defining moment. The moment he had been waiting his whole life for. In the following months, in the frenzy of ruling the universe and satisfying a mate, he had forgotten, but never again.

He had allowed himself to be put back into the place of a slave. He was man enough to admit that it was fear that had made him weak. He had coveted power for so long that when he had finally achieved his goal, it had overwhelmed him. It had been easier to succumb to the darkness of his soul than to fight it. It was easier to let his enemy destroy him rather than let his own tortured psyche do it for him. As a slave he didn't have to take responsibility for his actions, but now he had a choice. He could die as a slave or live as a king.

A ripple ran through Vegeta's body. It started at the base of his spine, working its way up to the scruff of his neck. Frieza saw the dance of muscles across Vegeta's naked, whip-marked back, and the smile melted from his face.

A second turned into an eternity as Vegeta began to rise. He stumbled at first, but he quickly caught his balance pulling strength into himself, pride straightening his spine. He was Vegeta, Prince of the Saiyans, Conqueror of Tyrants, Master of the Universe, and no one could take that from him, not even a bad dream.

"Yes, really." Vegeta lifted his head, his piercing black eyes pinning Frieza to the spot.

Vegeta felt strength flood through his veins, infusing his cells and awakening his sleeping soul. It wasn't ki that flowed through him, but the power of self. For the first time in his life he knew who he was, what his purpose was. So long he had sulked, secretly ashamed, devastated by the sins he had committed to stay alive, but not anymore. He had finally accepted that he was who he was.

A warrior. A king. A man.

"I defeated you, Frieza, because I'm better than you. I worked for it, trained for it, and in the end, I buried you. You were nothing more than shit on my heel that I scraped off on the nearest rock."

Frieza's jaw dropped open, and behind the gleam of his needle teeth, the gaping hole of his throat filled with blood.

"You are nothing. You may have ruled the universe, destroying everything in you path, including my people, but I avenged them. I became the Legendary. I…Defeated…You!" Vegeta spat the last words into Frieza's face, relishing the strength that saying three simple words gave him.

The blood boiled out of Frieza's mouth, staining his teeth and gushing over his chin.

"You're dead. I ripped your head from your body. You can't hurt me anymore Frieza; I won't give you the power. You are nothing more than a worm that crawled out of some icy, snake-infested hole, and now I intend to stuff you and your entire family back in it."

The flesh blew off Frieza's bones as he crumpled into a heap and melted into the ice, but Vegeta had said what he needed to say. No longer would he allow himself to be haunted by some vengeful shade who sought to control his mind. He was Vegeta, not some weak boy who cried for his daddy. Only he controlled his destiny. Only he had the power to change his life.

From the corner of his eye, Vegeta focused his vision on the monster of his present. His master's father had made his life hell, and he had let him. He allowed himself to be weakened, by doubt and regret, but no longer. He would not stand idly by while some reptile came into his life, stole his empire and tortured his family. He would destroy anyone who dared to take what was his. After all, he was the most powerful being in the universe.

Vegeta turned towards the lizard king, squaring his shoulders with determination. His hands fisted at his side, and deep down, where the dragon coiled around his soul, he could feel power pulsing. The golden beast stared up at him from the darkness with two clear, jade eyes.

The demons of his soul screamed, but they did not run from the light. They stood their ground, adding their chaos to the purity. No longer would Vegeta live as a separated man, as either good or evil. He was both. He had been forged in the fires of hell, taught by monsters to survive, and he would be a fool to shut them away. The golden warmth of the dragon took that raw power, the pain of his soul and contained it, channeling it. Darkness became one with the light; they defined each other, fortifying their strengths.

"Cold."

Vegeta's voice boomed across the cavern. It no longer wavered with weakness, but was powerful and confident.

King Cold turned towards him, barely concealing his shock behind a façade of nonchalance. Kakarot used the opportunity to pull himself from the wall, pausing in awe half way out. Vegeta stood before them, blood dripping from his wounds, his hair shorn, his tail cut away, but an aura of pride swelled the air around him. He had not transformed, but he didn't need to. The power that was encased inside his body was obvious to everyone in the room. He was truly the Saiyan King.

King Cold straightened his stance, refusing to be intimidated by a slave. He crossed his arms, putting on his best condescending smirk.

"Well, well. Did you finally find your dick, Vegeta, or are you just pretending for the kiddies?"

Vegeta's cold, emotionless face didn't even tic, and Cold shifted subtly as trepidation curled around his spine.

"Today is the day that you are going to die. Any last words?" Vegeta's confidence reached out, slapping Cold, and instantly infused him with anger.

"Listen here, you little runt. You are nothing more than a chained pet that dared to bite the hand who fed him. It's you who is going to be put down," he bellowed.

Vegeta smirked in response, a lazy curling of his upper lip that sent chills down everyone's spine.

"We'll see."

The remaining guards in the room quickly scrambled for the exit as a surge of power spilled out of both combatants, swallowing everything in its hungry wake.

In distant corners of the universe, the most powerful warriors raised their heads to the heavens, their hearts beating just a little faster as they felt the surge. And from the heavens, the gods themselves looked down into the icy room, watching as free will chose a path that could lead to the destruction of existence itself.

But no one watched more intently than a pair of blue eyes that were filled with tears of hope.


	20. The Fight

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. I don't have that kind of artistic skill. Even my stick figures look like the cat coughed them up.

Thanks to LisaB for her editing. I will miss her skill.

Chapter Twenty

The Fight

As the titans collided, a showery explosion of ki and ice expanded through the room, disintegrating everything in its path. The few remaining guards were killed instantly, and little Trunks was thrown against the back of his cage, landing on the ground unconscious.

Bulma would have been blown to dust if not for the quick thinking of Goku. He wrapped his body around hers, erecting a ki shield to absorb the monstrous blast. The rope that held her snapped under the force, brutally tossing them nearly a hundred yards. They would have crashed into the wall, but the wave of ki destroyed the room, leaving it open to the elements. Goku blinked through a haze of blood, the bright sparkle of the distant sun shining on the ice momentarily blinding him.

King Cold and Vegeta stood in what would have been the center of the room, locked in ferocious combat. Goku could barely see their attacks as they moved at super-sonic speeds, breaking the sound barrier with nearly deafening blows.

Goku had never been outside the protective palace walls, and the cold open air almost froze him on the spot. He kept his shield up, glance around him. The domes of the palace stood in a distance, shining pale against the sky. Most of the complex was underground, carved out of the ice, and could not be seen from the surface.

They were in a field of snow, bright and sparkling, untouched and pure. A mountain stoically stood guard, its overhang of ice and snow leering menacingly over them.

A loud boom shattered the air, and Goku whipped around to look at the combatants. Vegeta and Cold had separated, briefly pausing their frenzied battle. Both were blood-stained and their clothes ripped. Vegeta stood silently, his gaze terrifying in its absolute stillness. King Cold was breathing heavily but in no way winded. His own gaze was murderous; his cruel eyes jumped to and fro, seeking a chink in Vegeta's armor.

Goku knew that this was only a prologue. They had danced briefly, sliding in and out of each others defenses looking for their strengths and weaknesses. His blood sang with its own battle lust, but he knew that this fight wasn't his. King Cold had tortured him, taunted him and eventually broke him, but there was no denying that he couldn't defeat him. This battle had to be left to Vegeta---his king.

He swept up Bulma's unmoving body, her weight less than a feather to him. He stopped to grab up Trunks, wanting to take him away from the biting cold. Goku wasn't sure where to take them. Back to the palace would be suicide, but they couldn't stay here.

Goku and his charges were completely ignored by Vegeta and Cold. They only had eyes for each other. Cold was achingly aware that he stood across from the man who had killed his son. He wanted vengeance, he could taste it on his tongue, but he was also cautious. The man he faced was no weakling. It would have taken a great warrior to defeat his son in battle.

Vegeta watched as Cold stared at him. He knew the lizard was thinking of his offspring, wondering at the strength of the man who defeated Frieza. Vegeta stood proud, wearing his battle prowess like a badge of honor.

He was distantly aware of another time and place. He had fought this battle before, only it wasn't Frieza that stood across him, but his father. Vegeta felt none of the trepidation that he had felt on Namek. Instead he felt nothing but overwhelming confidence. This battle would quickly be over.

No words, but silent consent heralded the continuation of the battle. They raced towards each other, their feet leaving the ground, sprays of snow trailing them. They rammed together with such force that their ki spiked in all directions.

Sickening purple merged with royal blue. They spiraled upward, unhindered by gravity. They grappled, hands swinging and feet kicking. Their eyes locked in a mental battle of dominance. Neither looked away; neither showed weakness.

They slammed into the overhang of ice, their bodies corkscrewing through the mass until they exploded from the top. There was a heartbreaking groan from the mountain, followed by a sharp crack. The overhang teetered, tenaciously clinging to the side of the mountain. Its battle was quickly lost as ice and snow tumbled down the mountain, gaining momentum with every yard.

Soon there was a hungry ocean of relentless snow. It buried the icy plain in a blindingly white wave. The ten ton weight collapsed the underground rooms, crushing those who were inside.

It reached out, sliding its way towards the palace and the city that surrounded it. The ice mowed over the ice-bricked walls, burying half the city before its hunger was sated.

The two enemies continued to climb, uncaring of the destruction they wrought. They battled endlessly, disregarding their ki in favor of their fists. The satisfaction of feeling their bare fists hit flesh was enough.

They entered the upper atmosphere, and Vegeta smirked. He had participated in this battle before. At the top of the world he had captured Frieza and sent him careening towards Namek. His evil smile grew as the knowledge that victory was at hand spread through him.

Cold saw Vegeta's victorious glint in his eyes. His lips stretched over sharp teeth, a mocking rumble echoing from his chest.

"You know what they say, Vegeta. Don't count your egg laying birds."

Vegeta looked at his enemy oddly before snorting in disregard. "I have you, Cold. Soon you are going to join your pathetic son in the next dimension."

Cold's smile melted, and he glared at Vegeta. "My son was one of the greatest rulers of the universe. He would have kept you as his pet if you hadn't stabbed him in the back. You cheated, Vegeta, like a sick, pathetic worm that couldn't do it on his own."

Vegeta felt rage trickle through him. He was still in his dark-haired form, his blue ki snapping around him. He was a little afraid of turning super Saiyan. What if the darkness was still there, waiting to infect him when he was at his greatest glory?

He made a vicious jab for Cold's head, growling when the lizard ducked at the last second.

"Cheated!" he roared. "I never cheated at anything. I assure you, he was facing me when I ripped his putrescent head from his neck."

Cold pulled back, twirling effortlessly in the air. He swung his tail, aiming for Vegeta's legs. The prince easily avoided them, but he nearly lost his stomach contents when the lizard retaliated with a horn gorge to the midsection. Vegeta dodged, but not soon enough. A shallow cut dripped blood down his abs.

"You did cheat, Vegeta. You hid yourself away, using some fancy machine to train in. Worse it was created by some harebrained girl!"

Vegeta snapped his hand out, his fingers curling like an iron band around Cold's neck. He held him there immobile for just a moment.

"She is far from harebrained," Vegeta spat.

Cold jerked away, disgust curling his lips.

"You're pathetic. Getting help from some woman. Using her machines to make yourself stronger. It's disgraceful."

Vegeta smirked, amused at the lizard king's outrage.

"It's not cheating if you win. I found the best possible way to become the strongest in the universe. How I did it is of no concern. All that matters is that I put your precious son in his grave, and you are about to join him."

Cold snarled in rage and tried to lash out at Vegeta, but Vegeta was too fast, and dodged under his arms, dancing away from the flailing feet.

As they passed through cold and then heat, they raised their ki shields, creating their own comfortable atmosphere. They crested the top, only a thin layer of ozone, protecting them from the vacuum of space.

Cold looked back, and Vegeta followed his gaze. Endless blackness stretched about before them. It was decorated by stars, shining diamonds set in velvet. A small sun, reached out its rays, its weak light barely touching the ice planet. Vegeta took a moment to enjoy the view. He knew it was the end of the line for Cold, and he wanted to memorize everything.

"There's one thing you don't know about me, Vegeta." Cold turned back towards the windswept prince.

Vegeta rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in front of him. He stood firm on nothing more than shifting air, unwavering in his surety that he had won.

"Like I care."

Cold smirked. "Oh I think you might. You see, I can survive in outer space."

Cold dropped his bomb with relish, looking closely for any change in Vegeta's posture.

He didn't so much as flinch. Vegeta's control over his body was astronomical. Years as Frieza's slave had taught him to hide emotion. No, to _banish _emotion. One wrong twitch and he would have been a goner.

But Vegeta was worried. He didn't have the ability to survive in outer space. Of course his body was honed by years of rigorous training in hostile environments, but an extended battle in space was risky. He could battle limitlessly in a thin atmosphere like Primus, but actual space would require a shield and not just any shield.

It would have to be thicker than his normal ki shield. It would have to be able to hold the oxygen that he would need to breathe, but it would only be big enough for about thirty minutes of air. That, of course, was if it didn't get breached, something that was bound to happened in battle.

Not only would he have to concentrate on the battle, but he would have to extend his shield to throw a punch, or slick it against his skin to take a blow. If he used his shield to deflect a punch it would more than likely be ruptured. If he was too far from the planet, he might die before he could get back for more air.

Cold smile faltered when he didn't see a reaction from Vegeta. He was almost certain that Saiyans couldn't breathe in space. But then again, he had no idea what a super Saiyan could do.

Vegeta reached out to grab Cold, intending to keep him within the atmosphere, but the lizard was too fast. He erected a shield, and was through the burning ozone in seconds. Vegeta stood silently watching him as he went. Once on the other side some miles away, Cold stopped and turned around. He smiled broadly when Vegeta didn't follow.

"Who's the coward now, Cold?" Vegeta yelled across the distance, knowing very well that Cold's hyper-sensitive hearing could hear a mouse scurry across the planet..

Cold shrugged his arms nonchalantly, grinning menacingly. The Ice-jinn didn't believe in honor. His jibes had been directed at Vegeta's Saiyan sense of fair play. King Cold was out to win, not to play some little game.

Vegeta grimaced in frustration. "You are never going to win out there, Cold. I should have known that you were a fucking pussy. You're going to forfeit just like that?"

Cold didn't answer instead he raised his hand, palm up. Mockingly he molded his blotchy purple ki into a ball, bouncing it on his hand.

"Oh, I don't intend to lose, monkey." Cold hurled the ball towards Vegeta, safe behind his wall of ozone.

Vegeta side-stepped it with ease, but one was quickly followed by thousands. He raised his arms, crossing them over his face to protect his eyes. Purple mists of ki enveloped him as balls bounced off him, ricocheting in the clouds. Others flew past, hitting the world below them, erupting into mushroom clouds of destruction.

The wave of ki balls stopped, trickling down to nothing. The mist dissipated, leaving Vegeta to stand silently in the center of it all. His head was down, shadows cast in his eyes. Slowly he lifted his head, his deep, penetrating gaze meeting Cold's.

"Now you've pissed me off," Vegeta growled, barely audible to the Ice-jinn.

Cold jerked to attention as Vegeta began to gather his ki around him, sucking in his power. Blue lightning bolts slammed into him, convulsing his body. Vegeta's hands fisted at his sides turning his knuckles white. His head fell back, his tendons standing out starkly beneath his chin.

The blue ki turned to white, and then to gold. Light streamed through Vegeta's hair, turning the dark color blonde. His muscles bulged, and his power jumped. Before Cold's eyes he became a super Saiyan, the most unstoppable creature in the universe.

Vegeta rocked his head forward, his teal eyes locking onto his prey. Cold stood aghast, uncertain of what to do. Suddenly, Vegeta bolted forward, passing through the barrier without hesitation.

Vegeta knew that his new form would hide the ki shield he was forced to erect when exiting the atmosphere. He just prayed that he could keep the charade up long enough to defeat Cold.

He appeared before Cold, and struck without warning. He caught the reptile beneath the chin, sending him spiraling further out into space. Vegeta cursed under his breath, damning himself for the move. Every punch would send Cold further out to space, and Vegeta further from the planet.

What Vegeta needed to do was reposition himself so his back was to the blackness and Cold between him and the planet. It was easier said than done. Cold maneuvered artfully, never allowing the Saiyan to get around him.

The way he moved, Vegeta thought for sure that Cold knew that he couldn't sustain the vacuum for long, but the lizard was also skilled in the art of stoicism. They danced for long minutes, and every second was a nail in Vegeta's coffin. He pursued Cold relentlessly, striking his enemy painfully. Cold returned the blows, but less often and with less power.

They paused again, squaring off for the final battle. Vegeta caught a glimpse in Cold's eyes, something desperate. Vegeta felt a surge of excitement. If Cold did believe that the Saiyan could fight continuously in space then perhaps Vegeta could get the upper hand.

"Well, it's been fun," hissed the Ice-jinn.

Vegeta cocked a brow, staring incredulously at the mysterious lizard. Exactly, where did he think he was going?

King Cold touched two fingers to his forehead, gifting Vegeta with one last smirk before he disappeared before Vegeta's disbelieving eyes.

Vegeta snapped to attention, his eyes darting about. He twirled in the air, looking for any clue where the lizard could have gone. He saw nothing, nothing but impenetrable darkness.

"NO!" he shouted his head back, and his hands fisted.

He felt a flicker of power, something new, down inside him. Vegeta ignored it for a minute, instead using his mental radar to detect his opponent. He felt him, but it couldn't be possible. King Cold was a half a galaxy away, somewhere by another planet crusted in ice.

Vegeta desire to chase after him was so strong it ate him up inside. There was no way he could make the journey, and by the time he got a ship, the lizard king would be long gone.

Despair and anger welled up inside of him. He latched onto Colds ki signature, trying with all his might to send his loathing towards the beast. He shook with disappointment, and he trembled with the need to chase after his enemy.

He was concentrating so hard on King Cold; he almost didn't realize it when something burst forth inside him. One minute he was glaring at the faraway planet and the next he felt his molecules start to come apart.

Vegeta snapped together so fast that he almost made himself dizzy. He stopped thinking about his anger, and his need for vengeance. He concentrated all of his thought to his insides, unable to believe what just happened. His body had almost flown apart. Was he so strong, that his body could no longer contain him? Vegeta looked deeper, but he didn't think that was the answer.

He was almost certain that he could project his body to another place, just by concentrating on a person's ki. It was the _almost _that made him hesitate. He was afraid that if he let his body fall apart that he might never reappear, but his anger at Cold was stronger.

He cleared his mind, concentrating only on King Cold. Everything fell away, and through the darkness of his mind, he began to see threads, hundreds of thousands of them, each leading to a different place. He shifted through them, looking for the one he wanted. Finally he came across a pulsing purple one that stood out from all the others. Vegeta reached out and grasped it, concentrating firmly on reaching the end . . . .

King Cold jumped back a few feet when Vegeta appeared before him. His jaw went slack, and his eyes bulged. They were hanging far above another frozen world, but this one was completely uninhabitable. Instinct told Vegeta not to lower his shield.

"Miss me?" Vegeta smirked.

For once King Cold forgot to hide his astonishment. "How did you…?" he started to ask, but his question drifted off in wonder.

"I'm the Prince --" Vegeta paused, almost uncertain. "I'm the Emperor of the universe. There is nothing that I can't do."

Before Cold could pull himself together, Vegeta crossed his hands, slamming into his enemy's chest. Cold flew backward, threw misty clouds, and thick rain. He plummeted to the ground, shattering the ice, and crashing through the flesh of the world.

When King Cold didn't emerge, Vegeta lazily floated down from his perch on the raging winds. He peered into the hole, past the layers of ice and into the hard crust. His super Saiyan eyes could easily see into the dark, but he saw no sign of the lizard.

He cautiously entered the hole, aware that it may be a trap. Once inside he stopped to sweep the area, his piercing eyes missing nothing. The center of the world was a series of spacious caverns, the thin bones of rock and dirt, just barely keeping the outer layer from collapsing in on its self.

He thinned his shield, allowing a small amount of the planet's atmosphere in. He parted his lips, poking out the tip of his tongue. His brows grew together into a vee as he tasted the air. The planet was primarily made up of hydrogen and helium, which was a very volatile mixture.

A firm palm planted itself in Vegeta's back, nearly rupturing his shield. He flew forward into a thin pillar of dirt, breaking through it easily. Vegeta spun around, shaking dust to the ground.

"Ha! Your weakness!" Cold gloated.

Vegeta grimaced in response. Cold had felt his shield, and now he knew it was only a waiting game. All he had to do was let Vegeta's air run out.

Vegeta darted after Cold, but even though the Saiyan was much stronger than the lizard, he was no match for his speed. They raced through the cavern, breaking pillars and dodging boulders, but no matter how he pushed, Vegeta couldn't catch him.

He stopped, floating silently in the air. His oxygen was nearly gone. If he left now, even with his instant transmission, Cold would be gone before he could return. He had no choice left. He had to destroy the monster, even if it meant killing himself.

Vegeta turned to the side, his stance proud and unbreakable. His gold hair waved up from his face, framing his head like a crown. He extended his right arm, holding it straight away from his body. He flexed his wrist, drawing his hand parallel to his body, tucking his thumb into his palm. In his ascended form, his Big Bang attack would be devastated and he didn't need to hit his opponent to kill him.

Hydrogen heated to one hundred thousand degrees or more would turn molten. The entire core of the planet would heat up like the corona of a sun, leaving no room for survival. Not even he could survive such a blast.

King Cold appeared in front of him, smiling indulgently.

"You take so long, Vegeta. A three-legged dog could dodge your blast."

A white ball of ki formed in Vegeta's hand, glowing so brightly it nearly hurt his eyes. His temperature shot up, and his face beaded with sweat as he held the ball. He kept the burning mass in the center of his palm, feeding it more and more energy, until it became a nova bomb of power.

"Dodge this," he spat as the blast flew from his hand.

At the last moment, King Cold understood what Vegeta was up too. He extended his own ki around the ball attempting to contain it. Vegeta watched as the lizard struggled, startling aware that he wasn't dead yet.

He took no time in seeking out a thread, any thread that would take him anywhere. He reached out grasping it just as Cold's power failed. There was an intense flash of light, and Vegeta closed his eyes against it, sure that he had failed.

He waited for the burning caress of the molten hydrogen, but there was nothing. He opened one eye, bravely taking a peek. He met Kakarot's eyes that were shining in joy. Vegeta quickly snapped both eyes open looking around him.

"Where is everyone?" he barked, but Kakarot only shrugged in response.

He was in King Cold's throne room; the only people present were himself in Super Saiyan form, Kakarot, his tiny son, and Bulma.

Vegeta looked down at his mate. She was lying on an ice sculpted settee, her blue hair falling like a waterfall, pooling on the ground. Her face was pale, beyond white.

When he had searched for a thread, a ki to escape, hers was the one that came to him the easiest. Sapphire blue, it had reached for him as he put his hand out, welcoming him warmly. But her ki stand had been weak, barely pulsing with life, and now he knew why. She lay at his feet, barely alive, mostly drowned.

"Mama! Mama!"

Trunks was straining against Kakarot, who had him firmly in hand. He was frantically trying to reach his mother. He fought so viciously that Kakarot was hard-pressed to keep his grip.

Vegeta strode up to Kakarot, and ripped the boy from his grasp. Trunks continued to struggle, his wails growing frantic. Vegeta gripped him by the neck, shaking him hard. His irritated growls chastised the child, who grew still in his hand. Vegeta dropped him to the ground barely giving him a glance.

Vegeta would have walked over to Bulma if a small hand at his trousers hadn't stopped him. He looked down to see bright blue eyes peering up at him.

"Mama. Flower."

Trunks pointed at Bulma as if what he had said made perfect sense. Vegeta didn't understand what the boy was saying, but he knew what he meant. He was concerned for his mama.

Vegeta shook him off, growling in reprimand. The boy retreated, instinctively knowing Saiyan authority.

Vegeta bent forward, stopping himself suddenly.

"Go guard the door," he snapped at Kakarot, silently relieved when he did so without question.

Vegeta leaned forward again, gathering Bulma up against his chest. He sat down on the settee keeping her balanced in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, embracing her with his entire body. His ki glowed; its soothing warmth penetrated the chill of Bulma's bones.

The moments seemed endless while Vegeta fed his ki to his mate. Their son watched quietly, his big eyes absorbing everything. Soon the color returned to her face, and her fingers became malleable. Her lips turned from blue to red, and a pink blush warmed her cheeks.

Bulma's breathing became stronger, less strained. Her thick, teal lashed fluttered against her cheeks, and Vegeta couldn't stop the flutter in his heart at the sight. She opened her eyes, their blue locking with his black fearlessly. She didn't tense in his arms but relaxed with relief.

She remembered everything. Their cold hostility back on Capital World, his violent anger that he took out on the universe when he left, and lastly, their horrible fight where he scorned her.

She wanted to forget it, to make it all go away, but she knew she couldn't. Finally she stiffened in his arms, tearing her eyes away from his while holding back the tears.

Vegeta sighed, the hole in his chest widening. His experiences on Namek had left him open to infestation. Evil had invaded his soul. Self doubt and loathing had ruled him. He didn't regret keeping Bulma at his side when she wanted to go after Trunks, but he should have handled it different. Before he had fought Cold, he purged his heart and mind. Now he felt different. For once in his life he felt _whole._

Bulma filled in a huge gap in his life. She brought him things he never thought possible. Sunshine and laughter. But even with her presence in his life he still had felt something was missing. He knew, deep down, he could never be at peace in his life until he came to terms with himself.

Secretly he had always hated what he was, what he had been forced to do in the name of his master, but now he knew that those experiences were a benefit to him. His body had been formed into a weapon, hardened in the very fires of hell.

Bulma had looked to him for protection, for freedom of tyranny, as all of his subjects had looked to him. Now he knew that was something he could provide for them. An innocent, sickly-sweet Emperor would never be able to protect them from the monsters of the universe.

If some powerful, evil-hearted being came looking for his throne, it would have a fight on its hands. Not because Vegeta was a kindly ruler, but because he was a monster himself. He knew how to defend himself from his like. Bulma could help him rule the universe in benevolence, but it was his experiences that would protect it.

He cupped the back of Bulma's head gently, lifting her up so she would look at him. He lowered his brow until their foreheads met. Bulma stared up at him with surprised eyes, full of wonder at his actions.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Bulma was so surprised she almost fell off his lap. She sat there a moment, trying to muster her thoughts.

Although she felt that her actions were justified, she also knew that she had hurt Vegeta. Their relationship was still in the bud, just barely blooming, and yet they had so much in their lives. The stress of reforming the government, bringing the revolutionaries to heel, and now they had their son to raise.

What they needed was time, time together as a family.

"I'm sorry too, Vegeta." She paused a moment, her breath caught in her lungs.

"Does this mean that you are going to give us another chance? That you are going to give us time?" she asked meekly, unable to find the strong-willed woman inside. So much was riding on his answer; she didn't think she would ever feel again if he denied her.

Vegeta lowered his mouth to hers, his lips brushing against her tender ones.

"Yes," he whispered, his breath tickling her.

Before she could reply, his lips were crashing down on hers, drinking deeply. His touch was possessive, but questioning, almost if he wasn't sure if had the right to call her his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself firmly against his chest. That was all the answer he needed, and his kiss became a devouring need.

He broke away, panting hard in her ear.

"I love you," she breathed in his ear, not expecting any reply. Much to her shock, he did.

"Me too." He hugged her tighter, loathing to have any part of them separated.

"Mama?"

Bulma felt a light tug on her hair, jerking her from the haze of Vegeta's touch. She whipped around in Vegeta's lap, looking down at the absolute love of her life. Vegeta may be the air she breathed, but Trunks was her lungs.

She tumbled out of Vegeta's lap, her arms sweeping towards her baby boy.

"Bulma!" Vegeta warned, but she ignored him.

She wrapped her arms around her baby, relishing her first hug from him. He returned the hug, squeezing her ribs painfully. Vegeta jumped to his feet, but she waved him down

"Mama, flower. Delicate," she panted out with small breaths.

Instantly his grip lessened, allowing air to reach her lungs. He looked up at her, his big eyes contrite.

"Sorry," he muttered.

For the first time, Vegeta finally understood what Trunks had been saying all this time. Bulma was as delicate as a flower and needed gentle handling. He had been afraid that his son would crush his weaker mother, but somehow she had single-handedly tamed the half Saiyan.

He looked down at his mate as she glowed in the presence of her son. Her eyes darted up at him, so filled with happiness it was like a kick in the gut. Her joy was for all of them, not just her son. Vegeta silently admitted that she had tamed more than one Saiyan.

The quiet, family tranquility was interrupted by the crash of the door. Vegeta jumped up to defend his family, while Bulma moved back, hitching her son on her hip.

Vegeta couldn't have been more surprised when Zarbon appeared at the entrance, followed by Kakarot.

"I'm glad to see that you are both well. Is that the new prince?" Zarbon said smoothly without missing a beat.

"What are you doing here?" Vegeta ignored Zarbon's question in favor of his own.

"We captured a spy, who was able to tell us where you were being kept. After we realized who was backing the Shari-Reeves Union, we knew it was time to attack. We had been watching their ships creep up on our star bases for quiet some time. Naturally we beat them back, and came to rescue you."

"Naturally," Vegeta retorted sarcastically.

Zarbon raised a perfectly sculpted brow, but did not respond. Bulma was sure that there was a story in there somewhere but she was too tired to ask.

"How is that you got past the guards so easily?" Bulma asked.

"Well, I wouldn't say it was easy," said Zarbon with an amused hitch to his voice.

"That's what you paid us for isn't it?" Seventeen's bored tones rang out from the door.

Everyone looked over to see the two androids lounging against the frame. There was a small, short man beside Eighteen, but no one paid him any mind. Bulma's eyes lingered on him for a moment, recognizing him from a dream---a dream of silver and broken promises, a dream of hope and destiny.

"Eighteen," the boy thumbed towards his sister, "started a riot in the harem while I started one in the slave quarters. Between that and the avalanche that took out half the city, it was pretty easy."

"We took care of the rest of the servants." Delia chimed in from behind the mercenaries. She pushed past them, making her way to Bulma. "I'm so glad that you are okay. I was so worried when they took you away."

"I'm fine," replied Bulma while hugging her friend.

Raditz bowed formally to his king, and then stood behind Delia, nearly hovering. Bulma saw him over her friend's shoulder, and when she pulled back from the hug, she lifted a questioning brow. Delia smiled in response, warming Bulma's heart. The two lovers had worked out their problems as well it seemed.

"This isn't a fucking party. Get this place secured. I don't want any of my newly acquired property to get damaged."

Zarbon, Kakarot and Raditz jumped to do Vegeta's bidding, and since they were still on the payroll, the androids gave a hand. Vegeta smirked confidently at Bulma, taking her hand to lead his family to Zarbon's ship where they would be safe.

Finally, everything was as it should be. He had destroyed the Ice-jinn dynasty, claiming their palace and subjects as his own. His family was reunited, his son safely in his mate's arms. He had come to terms with what he was, and he was no longer ashamed of it.

He was the Emperor of the universe who had everything he could ever need, power, family and respect. The Saiyan race was finally at peace.


	21. Coronation

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ

Thanks to Barb for her beta skills.

Chapter Twenty-One

Coronation

Bulma posed in the full-length mirror framed in intricately carved wood. She turned to the right, sucking her stomach in beneath her silky undergarments, pouting at what she saw. She wasn't fat, but she was getting on into her thirties.

A cool breeze wafted in from the balcony, sheer pink curtains blowing in the wind. Her room was overrun by servants as they raced back and forth with some task or another. A glint of sunlight caught in the mirror, and Bulma turned her attention to the balcony.

The sun shone brightly over an azure ocean. Once returning to Capital World, Vegeta had razed Frieza's palace in the north to the ground. No longer would either of them be haunted by the memory of their master while they walked cold hallways or entering the throne room. Vegeta had built them a new palace on the shores of the equatorial ocean, as close to the warm sun they could get.

Choosing the stone for their new home had been quite a fight. Bulma had wanted rose marble, imaging the perfect castle she had wanted as a child. Vegeta had stubbornly disagreed; there was no way he was going to allow his home to look like some candy land fantasy. He had wanted turquoise for his walls in honor of the royal Saiyan family.

In the end they had compromised. Bulma had discovered the greatest find in the century. Kerithiam Quartz. It seemed that the space pirate Saffron had quite the pile hoarded. It had cost Bulma a pretty penny, but she had secured enough to construct the palace's outer walls. Now the palace gleamed blood-red on top of a green carpet of lush grass, beside the tranquil waters of the ocean. Bulma got her rose marble for the women's quarters and Vegeta got Turquoise for his rooms. In the center where everyone met, courtiers, servants and royals alike, was white marble, a symbol of unbiased beliefs, balance, truth.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Delia waddled up to her. The beautiful courtesan was heavily weighted down by child. Her and Raditz had made their courtship official once they returned from the Ice-jinn world, and had immediately started on their new family. Jarrell was happy with his new father, and was excited about the new addition to the family. He strutted around in his shiny palace guard armor, telling everyone within hearing how he was going to protect his new baby brother or sister from anyone who even thought of messing with them.

Raditz was training Jarrell in the ancient profession of a bodyguard, and his first assignment was the young prince. Raditz instructed Jarrell thoroughly on the manner of serving his lord, and the boy took his job very seriously. He followed Trunks around relentlessly, his face stoic like his new father's, but in the end the boys would just end up wrestling, youth overriding responsibility.

Trunks had taken to court life with the adaptability of a true Saiyan, his feral past forgotten, (with only the loss of a few livestock) and even though Trunks was much stronger than the blonde-haired boy, they got along tremendously well.

Delia carried with her an elegant white gown, encrusted with pearls, with a short scarlet cape that fell to the waist. Today was the day that Vegeta and she would officially announce their place in the universe. It had taken many months to regain order in the chaos that had ensued with the deaths of Frieza and King Cold. Everything had fallen into place much easier now that Vegeta and Bulma had presented a united front.

Trade had been restored, and the economy was booming. Bulma had managed to gather together all the first-born children of the ruling lords of the various worlds. She hadn't threatened, instead she had demurred, and many families thought they were sending their children off to receive a top-notch education. Bulma was sure that her new charges were treated with the most loving care possible, thereby securing the future of her own children through the love of her youngest captives.

"Aren't you ready yet?" bellowed Vegeta from the doorway, sending several servants scurrying. Still afraid of Vegeta, Delia would have run too, but her belly wouldn't allow it. Slowly she backed away, taking Bulma's dress with her.

Bulma threw her hands up in the air, whipping around to confront him. "I would be if you would stop interrupting me!"

Her instant bad mood melted away when she looked at her mate. He was dressed in royal, pearl white dress armor. Beneath it, his black suit formed against his legs and arms, showing each ridge of his delicious muscles. He wore matching red-tipped, white boots and gloves, and sweeping over one shoulder was a crimson cape that fell to his heels.

He looked so strong and imposing, and absolutely, breath-taking handsome. She couldn't stop the small smile of appreciation that curved on her lips. He smirked in response, covering the distance quickly. He swept her up in his arms, kissing her deeply.

Bulma melted into him, moaning against his lips. Her soft breasts pressed against his hard armor uncomfortably, but she didn't care. Her husband was delicious, and she wanted to savor every last bit.

Her fingers traced down the strong column of his neck brushing cool stone that encircled his throat. She pulled back from their kiss, her eye catching the bright red necklace that Vegeta wore. A soft smile whispered over her lips as she remembered the first time she had given her husband a gift. She had to admit that the Torque of Kingship looked better around his neck than on the floor while she was having the life choked out of her. How far they had come, she thought. No longer would she ever fear the harsh hand of her husband, either for herself or their subjects.

He put her back on the floor, a seductive glint in his eye. Over his shoulder, Bulma noticed Delia trying to make a break for it.

"You don't have to leave, Delia. We are done."

Vegeta let out an irritated growl of disagreement, but Bulma waved him off.

"Look at her. If she leaves now, she'll never be able to get back in the room. She's about ready to pop." In true kingly fashion, Vegeta ignored the pregnant girl. He had yet to forgive her for her betrayal so long ago, and wasn't above voicing his displeasure that his bodyguard had made her his mate. Bulma pushed against him, when he loomed towards her, intending to finish what he started.

"We don't have time for that right now, Vegeta. Why don't you go check on Trunks?"

Vegeta sneered in disappointment, but he knew she was right. The coronation was one event that they couldn't be late to.

"Well, hurry up then," he snapped.

Vegeta marched towards the door, turning around at the last second.

"Where is the brat?"

Bulma rolled her eyes, used to her mate calling their son a brat by now. At first she had been irritated, but she had gotten used to it. The endearment didn't seem to hurt Trunks's feelings so she had let it go.

"Probably with his nurse getting ready."

Trunks's nurse, Elle Geir, had dropped a surprise on them a couple of months ago---a twelve-pound boy with sparse dark hair and a tail. No one had known she was pregnant until the last month, and when she birthed a Saiyan child there had been a few raised brows. Raditz was quick to tell his Queen and mate that Miss Geir had been on very comfortable terms with Nappa before they had left, lest they turn their suspicious eyes upon him.

Elle had been stoic on the matter. She refused to talk about her relationship with the father of her baby. She named the boy Kyabetsu, and lavished him with loving attention. Vegeta noted that Nappa's father had shared the same name, but he kept that information to himself.

"Have you heard anything from that idiot?"

Bulma raised a brow, but didn't turn around. Delia was helping her into the heavy dress, and she hadn't been aware that Vegeta was still there. A small smile quirked on her lips, her mate as such a voyeur.

"Yes. Everything is coming along just fine."

Vegeta snorted and exited the room. They had left Kakarot and his wife Chi Chi in charge of Glace, the Ice-jin home world. Vegeta hadn't wanted anyone but a Saiyan in charge of his new acquisition, but in a moment of rare sentimentality he didn't want Raditz to be so far away.

Now that he had absorbed King Cold's domain into his, running the universe had become ten times harder. Bulma assured him that leaving Kakarot in charge was the best thing to do. He was obliviously loyal, but Vegeta wasn't sure if he was as loyal to his Saiyan king as much as he was to his human queen. It didn't matter to Vegeta, as long as he was loyal. He didn't want to deal with any more uprisings during his reign.

He had been surprised at Kakarot's efficiency. When he had left the Gelid City was in turmoil, the walls had been broken and many lay dead. Within months the city had been repaired, and any revolt in that sector had been squashed.

The most surprising of it all was the planet that Vegeta had blown up in order to defeat King Cold. The once frozen planet had turned itself into a sun, which now blazed brightly. In one hundred years the ice on Glace would be melted and land would appear in five hundred years it would be unrecognizable. Bulma's curiosity had skyrocketed, she had wanted to learn the secret to the sun's mysterious conversion, but Vegeta had pulled her away towards Capital World, and this time she didn't protest.

"Are you going to tell him that it's really Chi Chi running the show?" Delia asked while securing the last of the buttons on Bulma's dress.

"Are you kidding me? His male pride couldn't take the blow right now. Let him think that a Saiyan male is ruling half his universe." Once the dress was secured she reached over, picking up a polished wooden box.

"Isn't he going to be mad?" Delia put the finishing touches in Bulma's hair, making sure no strands had come lose.

"Probably. But he has his plate full right now. Besides Chi Chi runs that place with an iron frying pan. By the times he finds out, he won't care that a woman is running everything."

"What about, Goku?" Delia opened the box, reverently picking up the item from inside.

"He's doing his part. Notice, no more revolutionaries. They divided the work pretty well, I think. She takes care of the administration, and he whips up on anyone who threatens it."

Delia shrugged in response, fastening the necklace around Bulma's neck. She stepped back as Bulma turned to face the mirror. She fingered the delicately carved stone around her neck. It was an exact replica of Vegeta's necklace, the Torque of Kingship. She smiled warmly and stood up.

She nodded to Delia, and left the room making her way to the outside of the Hall of the Kings. Waiting for her was Vegeta, dressed in all of his kingly finery, and next to him was their son. Trunks was dressed in his princely garb, but he didn't look to happy about it. He shot a look at Elle who frowned at him. Bulma hid her smile, knowing her wild son wasn't happy about wearing clothes, much less itchy, starched ones.

She bent down, hauling him up into her arms. He had quickly learned to curb his strength when around her, protecting his delicate mother from his power. His father was a different story. Vegeta encouraged him daily to attack with all his might, making him stronger with every bout.

Vegeta lips curled slightly as he gazed at his wife. She was wearing a full skirt, with a tail that followed behind like a pool of water. The bright white color set off her eyes, impossibly making her more beautiful than when he first saw her. Her teal hair was swept off her neck, and decorated with the jewels he had given her.

He swept Trunks from her arms, knowing full well that he was getting too heavy for her. She curled her hand around his bicep, standing just a little too close to be formal. Together they faced the door of the Hall of the King. Trunks should be in between them as they entered, but Vegeta loathed letting him down.

Since the return of his family, he had lathered them with attention in private, and even in public on occasion. His Saiyan brain knew that he shouldn't be showing so much affection for his family. They could easily be stolen from him by another enemy just like Cold. His heart knew that was wrong. By showing his affection, he was telling everyone what was the most important to him. He had ruthlessly terminated a rebellion that had threatened his throne, what would he do to someone who stole something he truly cherished? He trusted fear to keep his enemies at bay, and his caring that he showed his family to keep his friends close.

Inside the hall the royal families from all the worlds were waiting inside. They would flank them on all sides as they strode forward. At the end of the hall sat three thrones, two for adults and one tiny one for a child. Before they sat they would be crowned, in the Saiyan tradition, marking them for all to see as the King and Queen of the Universe.

Showing themselves in a united front as rulers, as companions, and as a family. The royal family of Vegeta, unstoppable, relentless and merciful. And all would bow in recognition of their power.

The End


End file.
